


The Downfall of the Juillet Institute

by StarberryCupcake



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Blood, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mutants, Other, Police Brutality, Violence, basically e/r centric, canonical execution of claquesous, genetic manipulation, institutionalization, les amis have powers, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of young people, who have grown up inside an institution that conducts genetic experiments on them, plan to use their superhuman abilities to stop them from continuing with their inhuman work. Enjolras irradiates light, Grantaire hides in the shadows and their bond may be a key to change all their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little (or maybe not so little) experimental fic that has absolutely nothing to do with my other series. I'm very insecure about this, but I suppose I've got nothing to lose by publishing it and (hopefully) getting some useful feedback. As always, I own nothing but the new context in which these fantastic characters are placed and my debatable characterizations of them.

Grantaire shivered and moved his feet awkwardly in a hopeless attempt to keep warm. His shoes made a sound on the floor of the garage where he was hiding, and the echo that resounded would not feel as threatening as it did if that had been a normal situation. But, living inside an institution that kept him imprisoned as he currently was, the constant fear had become normalcy. He would often repeat to whoever asked that he had no clue why he was in his current position, given his constant pessimism and disbelief in change, but he knew very well why he was outside of his room that night, as well as any night to come, if that was the case. If Enjolras was going to attempt something that was to put his life in danger, Grantaire was going to follow. In the eventual case of an emergency, he would give his life for the leader of that damn group of young and naive mutants, and if he was not enough help to save him from imminent death, he would die beside him. After all, his life without Enjolras in it…it was best if he did not think about what it would become.

He heard Joly’s soft whistle from the pile of boxes across from the one he was hiding behind, a soft sound unrecognizable to the rest of the world but completely meaningful among their group; and prepared himself for action. He checked the garage, illuminated by the mild moonlight that entered through the smallest cracks, and perceived Joly and Bossuet hiding, just like him, behind some boxes across from his spot. In the ceiling, perched on some pipes, was Feuilly, who appeared there instantly, remote control in hand. Bahorel was ahead of Grantaire, secluding his threatening posture from the light that entered the garage. Jehan and Combeferre were in position, each one on either side of the closed door, waiting for the imminent encounter. Grantaire and Combeferre had shared a serious exchange of glances some minutes earlier, both worried about Enjolras’s safety when it came to this plan. It would work. It had to work. Grantaire prayed to every deity he had formerly discarded that it worked.

Grantaire was able to hear the van approaching from his position inside the garage. Before the drivers could guess, as they slowly entered, why Combeferre and Jehan were standing still at both sides of the door, Feuilly had accessed a code with the control he had stolen from the entrance office and the garage gate closed again, trapping the van halfway inside. Both Jehan and Combeferre stood in front of the vehicle and, as the drivers were trying to take out their weapons and aim at them, Grantaire, Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet ran into action. Bossuet used his skills to create an illusion in the minds of the drivers, distracting them while Joly, entering the vehicle, touched their faces and transmitted them a high fever, enough to make them become lethargic and confused. Bahorel run to the back of the van then and ripped the back door from its hinges.

As soon as it was taken out, Grantaire saw him. His blonde curls catching the faint moonlight, as if they were absorbing their energy. Grantaire did not stare but was able to see a bruise forming in the side of his face and his red lips cut and bleeding. Not such a flawless plan, after all. He grabbed his hand and led him out but there was no time to waste: Courfeyrac, from his spot outside the garage door, was already signaling that the guards were arriving and they had to move fast.

Grantaire cast shadows around the group of kids that came down from the van after Enjolras and they ran with him, hiding in his shadow, towards the entrance gate. Grantaire found its lock melted just as planned, thanks to Enjolras’s powers, used some minutes earlier. He didn’t have to push too hard to open it and ordered the kids to run until they reached the location that Enjolras had taught them minutes before, when they were all inside the van. He took a moment to watch them run towards freedom and was tempted to follow suit, but a part of him, the part that belonged with Enjolras and his group of friends, was strong enough to make him turn his back to freedom and walk inside their prison again. 

As he returned from the gate and joined his friends, all caught by guards and apprehended, tied up and some beaten to the ground or, in Bahorel’s case, electrocuted with a an electric prod, Grantaire started wondering for a millionth time that night why he was doing this. He could still hear in his head the faint sobs of a little girl who had ran alongside him, the panicked faces of all those kids were imprinted in his mind, all of them scared and confused, being led to an unknown location and hoping that the place Enjolras had instructed them to go was not like the one they were fleeing from. He regarded the countenance of his friends, some already lacking the adrenaline rush, some still breathing heavily. And then he saw Enjolras, sat on the ground beside Courfeyrac, with a bruise that had started swelling on his cheek, a split lip, blood down his neck and the fiercest and most piercing gaze he had ever seen. Enjolras irradiated hope, will and power. Enjolras was satisfied. And Grantaire remembered, for a millionth time as well, why he was out of his room that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just a little prologue to set the mood, the rest of the chapters will be considerably longer than this one and will have visual complements to give more details about the abilities these people all have and such. As usual, this is unbeta'ed. I'll upload the first official chapter soon because this is just a silly teaser. Thanks for reading and giving this fic a chance! I hope you're interested enough to keep on reading and I haven't scared you off yet!


	2. And my frozen pulse quickens as the black plot thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"...rising their voices like this wasn't advisable and, even if Combeferre hadn't yet developed any mutation that let him communicate with his mind, Enjolras knew he was about to ask him to calm down. Nevertheless, Enjolras couldn't calm down when it came to Grantaire. The man was his personal and custom made weakness."_
> 
> A group of young men, who had grown up inside an institution that conducted genetic experiments on them, plan to use their superhuman abilities to stop them from continuing with their inhuman work. Enjolras irradiates light, Grantaire hides in the shadows and their bond may be a key to change all their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official chapter one is here! longer than the little prologue I published before. Let's hope it doesn't disappoint (much). Again, I own nothing but the way I'm moving these characters around like a very twisted and terrible Sims game. Title from the song 306 by Emilie Autumn.

A week and four days had passed since the van incident and they were finally allowed in the same room again. They were constantly guarded, but had received enough ‘incentive’ to keep quiet for a while. The worst thing about growing up with these people, Grantaire thought, was having them know what hurt you most and giving them torture material. For some of them it was force, for others it was mental manipulation, for others it was threatening the families they still had outside. Still, there was one worry that they all had in common: each other’s safety.

When Grantaire was left inside the white common room, Joly and Bossuet were clinging to each other tightly in a couch, with Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Enjolras sitting close to each other across from them on another one and an uncharacteristically quiet Bahorel, with burns on his temples, was lying on the carpet in between them, with a serious Feuilly caressing his hair absentmindedly. Grantaire was immediately pulled to the carpet by Courfeyrac and landed ungracefully at Enjolras’s feet, which was quite appropriate, if you asked Grantaire.

Unexpectedly enough, Grantaire felt Enjolras’s hand on his black curls, reassuring warmth emanating from his body, a residual effect of his power. Grantaire’s darkness made his skin cold and turned it colder the more he used his abilities, the less clear it got and the less visible it made him; Enjolras’s skin could glow a shiny shade of gold and rise its temperature the more Enjolras used his power and the more visible he got. It was ironic, really, how opposite their mutations had developed. The mutant gene was supposed to be affected by their minds, their fears, their hopes, their personalities and the things they had been exposed to, giving them abilities related to what they would be more apt to. Enjolras was driven towards the light and Grantaire was held inside the darkness. The distance between them, Grantaire thought, turned more painful as the days went by.

“How are you?” Enjolras’s voice reached him, even if he was speaking softly.

Grantaire knew that as soon as they got the chance to speak without being heard by guards or doctors, they would argue about safety, the futile attempts to change things and their future plans. They were going to argue and shout and probably avoid each other for days on end. But right then, he was too tired for that.

“Alive” he breathed out, leaning shyly towards Enjolras’s touch.

“Good” Enjolras seemed to get as much calmness from playing with Grantaire’s curls as the man himself did, so he leaned over Enjolras’s knees, his back on the couch, and sighed.

Their moment was interrupted though, as Jehan entered the room. They all stared, their mouths agape and eyes wide open, at the skinny young man who was standing there: his long chestnut red hair, sometimes adorned with the wild fake flowers he could materialize with his abilities after having written them down and visualized them, had been cut. It was now a short mess that didn't even reach his shoulders, and the trembling man seemed to feel its disappearance in every fiber of his being.

“ _God, when he gave me strength, to show withal/how slight the gift was, hung it in my hair_ ” he quoted, with a ghost of a voice, and Grantaire immediately recognized John Milton’s words.

Jehan did that sometimes, after spending a lifetime devouring books outside the institution and inside of it, with the more limited possibilities the library they had in there could offer; but with Mabeuf’s help, a nice and old librarian that sneaked in prohibited titles, Jehan’s appetite had kept developing. Now, though, he seemed to need more than ink and paper, bytes on a screen or words on a hologram projector.

Courfeyrac opened his arms and Jehan stumbled in them, sobbing almost imperceptibly for everyone except for the center of their group, whose arms hugged him tightly. When Courfeyrac used his power of empathy, there weren't noticeable physical traces in him, like with Enjolras or Grantaire. Still, when they heard Jehan’s breathing evening out, they all knew that he was using his capacity to transmit emotions by touch with the young man. Courfeyrac’s power could work both ways: he could transmit his own emotions or physical sensations to others or absorb them, as well as memories, using more of his energy. He mumbled sweet nothings to Jehan’s ear as his emotions calmed him down and they embraced each other tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Jehan” Combeferre said from beside the bundle of limbs that Courfeyrac and Jehan had become.

“It’s alright” he answered, as he regained his normal breathing but stayed firmly in Courfeyrac’s grasp “We did save them, didn't we?”

“We did” Grantaire couldn't see Enjolras from where he was sitting, but felt his hand, that was now resting atop his shoulder, get warmer and he knew the leader of that misguided group was smiling.

Grantaire couldn't share the feeling of triumph, he could not see how all that pain and gambling with their own safety was going to make any difference when vans with children and teenagers came by every week and hovering carts with dead bodies of boys and girls went out every night, probably to be disposed of behind cathedrals or into rivers, unidentified forever. But he didn't want to say it out loud right then. It wasn't as if Enjolras did not know this already. Still, just like the blond man behind him couldn't control his body heat rising when he was happy, excited and hopeful; Grantaire couldn't control his from lowering when he felt something intensely.

Enjolras seemed to feel it, because he let go of Grantaire’s shoulder, ironically enough, like if something had burned him. Grantaire felt it too, their body temperatures clashing and creating some sort of pulse, like an electric shock. Not only were they separated by their beliefs (or lack thereof) but also by their anatomies.

“We shouldn't talk about this right now” Combeferre offered, always the wise one.

They couldn't ponder for long about what to actually talk about, because a young man they had never seen before entered the room. He seemed younger than them all, with a clumsy pace that threatened to drop the tray filled with glasses and pill containers that he was holding, and tried too hard to avoid staring at them. If it hadn't been for the lab coat he was wearing, Grantaire would have confused him with another inmate.

He reached the group awkwardly, looking around and making it seem rather obvious that he was bothered about being observed. When he realized the stares he was gaining from the group of young men he was approaching, his pale face blushed profusely.

“For you” he extended the tray, offering them the medication and glasses, and used his thumb to indicate Courfeyrac, the closest one to him, to grab a tiny piece of paper.

Courfeyrac, with Jehan still in his arms, understood immediately the secrecy that the situation required, and smiled at the young man, reassuring him.

“I’m Marius,” he mumbled, shyly “Marius Pontmercy. I’m a new intern.” He cleared his throat.

“Next time, try acting normal, Marius Pontmercy” Enjolras stated, with a severe gaze.

“I’m sorry…” the freckled young man was trying to apologize but Enjolras shushed him, to keep his voice down.

“Don’t worry” Courfeyrac lightly touched his hand and seemed to have conveyed calmness and reassurance through him, because Marius relaxed visibly.

Marius’s communication device sounded and he took it in hand, startled. The hologram of the head of interns appeared on the screen, demanding his immediate presence.

“I gotta go,” Marius offered, as awkwardly as he had before “nice to meet you all”

Most of them smiled at him, except for Enjolras and Feuilly, who were still uncertain of whether they could trust the new intern or not. Grantaire knew that the sole fact that he was an intern willing to work for that institution didn't put him in a high position when it came to Enjolras’s appreciation. If there was something Grantaire knew about was of those things that Enjolras did not appreciate.

“M’s” Courfeyrac said nonchalantly, and signaled briefly to the little paper on his hand, which he was already crumpling “Everything's ok”

Those few words would have meant nothing to an outsider but the group of young men reunited in that room could make perfect sense of it. M was how they referred to Mabeuf on public spaces, the institution’s librarian, who didn't only sneak in prohibited books for them to read but also gave temporary accommodation to all the rescued children that these young men could set free. After Enjolras had melted the lock on the gate in their last escapade, he had been purposely caught by the drivers so he could be dropped inside the van and informed the kids of Mabeuf’s address, so the man could take care of them and return them to their homes or find safe places for them to live. If he said everything was ok, it meant that the plan had gone smoothly, at least for those kids, and the fact that he trusted Marius to deliver the message also said something good about the new intern.

“Do you expect to keep this up?” Grantaire couldn't stop himself from asking, with indignation tainting his voice.

He kept his back to Enjolras, moving away from the couch but not turning to look at his face. He didn't want to see the disappointment, not when he had been through so many days of separation, intense medication and doctors who had left his mind so raw and vulnerable.

“Actually, no” Enjolras replied with his usual intensity.

Grantaire could almost feel his piercing gaze in the back of his neck and flinched in anticipation.

“I am thinking of taking a different path now” he continued, still intense, still confident.

“Enjolras…” Combeferre stopped him before he revealed too much in such a dangerous position, and Enjolras complied.

“We’ll talk about it later” Jehan added, his voice still soft but his confidence restored.

Of course, after all that had happened, after all that Jehan had suffered, he was still willing to continue this madness. Jehan was nothing if not intrepid, after all. 

* * *

Marius was shaken after his first day of work, especially after he had seen that group of young men he had been sent to meet. Life had not been easy for Marius for the past month, but he hardly regretted the choices he had made. When you find out that your grandfather has been lying to you when he claimed your father was not interested to see you, you had no other choice but to leave his household and try to figure out the truth behind all that. Even if it meant leaving with hardly any money and no place at all to stay in.

Mabeuf had been his only clue, an old friend of his father who worked alongside him in a mysterious Institute that specialized in medical research. Marius had known of him through the messages he had found in his grandfather’s computer, where not only his father mentioned that he was staying with this friend but also expressed his longing to see his son. After a huge confrontation, Marius had taken off to find Mabeuf and meet his father, only to find out that he had passed away less than a year before. Mabeuf had been more than kind, offering Marius a place to stay and a job as an intern in the same place his father used to work, where the old man was still employed in. But, he had said, if he really wanted to learn what had happened with his father, the real reason why he was dead, he was going to have to be up to some seriously dangerous enterprises.  Marius didn't feel he had a choice, he owed his father that, at least, to know why he had died and who was responsible for it. The records stated he had been involved in a work accident, a fire in the records computer section where he worked, but Mabeuf insisted there was more to it than just a mere accident, that his father had learned something he was not supposed to.

And that was how Marius was introduced to the real use of the Institute: human experimentation. Genetic alterations were the main investigation and, as far as Marius was told, they had been doing it for years. The oldest living (and Marius couldn't help but shiver at that) patients, or inmates, as they were called, was a group of young men slightly older than Marius himself and that Mabeuf had been working with.

Marius was greatly surprised when, one night, almost two weeks before, a group of very shaken and terrified children had arrived at Mabeuf’s door and the man had taken them in. Marius helped him attend to them and spend the following week finding them homes, some of them had parents to return to but others needed new places to stay. That was when Mabeuf explained the extent of these experiments and how children who were lured in the Institute had been dying more and more with each passing month. He told Marius about these young men who had helped the kids escape and how they had been object to experimentation during their childhoods as well. They were still there, trying to help from the inside, but it seemed that things were getting worse very quickly.

According to Mabeuf, it was highly likely that what Marius’s father had learned before he died had to do with these mysterious deaths, but even if it weren't, Marius would have still offered his assistance to do something for these children, and to help these young men. He was expecting to be surprised when he met them, but seeing them so weak, so vulnerable but still so willing to fight, had been a shock to Marius’s young heart.

As he exited the Institute, a curious sight appeared before him. A girl was slowly but steadily climbing the side gate of the institution, her bare feet and bony hands clasping the bars fiercely. Her thin and fragile body seemed weak but her determination was something to behold. Her dark curly hair was escaping from under a cap that was unsuccessfully trying to hold it in and Marius ran towards her when he realized what she was trying to do.

“Get down! You’ll get hurt!” he exclaimed but later lowered his voice in case he would get them both in trouble with the guards.

“I'll be fine, go away!” she climbed higher, ignoring Marius altogether.

“You don’t understand, the top of this fence is electri…” he wasn't able to finish his warning.

The girl had barely grazed the top of the gate when an electric current sent her back, throwing her from her position and down to the ground. Luckily for her, Marius had good reflexes and he caught her on her way down, falling back with her on his arms.

“Told you…” he winced, his back was going to need some rest after that.

“Oh my god, you just…” the girl turned to Marius, her grey eyes wide in shock “you just saved me” she whispered, unbelieving.

Whoever this girl was, she didn't seem to have encountered many good Samaritans in her life. They both stood, slowly, and Marius realized that he had dropped his bag and his ID tag on his way to catch the girl. He reached the bag but the girl picked the ID before he had.

“Thank you, Monsieur Pontmercy” she handed him the tag.

“It’s Marius, and you’re welcome…”

“Éponine” she offered, smiling but with hesitance written all over her eyes “Éponine Thénardier…can I ask you a question? A question in confidence?” she took her cap off and her long dark curls fell over her bony shoulders, her olive skin barely prepared for the weather with very thin and ragged clothes over her. 

“I suppose” Marius was starting to think that the day was never going to end, not with all these surprises around each literal corner.

“You work in there, have you seen a new kid recently? Ash blond hair, skin somewhat like mine, acts like a demon but with the face of a cherub?”

“I just started today so all the kids are new for me, I’m sorry” he answered truthfully.

Éponine’s face fell, her expression deflated.

“Who is he?” Marius felt sad for the girl, she seemed truly disrupt.

“My little brother” she sighed “My father sold him to these… _monsters_ ” she frowned, looking at the Institute with disdain “I know what they do, we all know…my father, he…ever since I have memory he has worked for them in what they call the ‘Underground Force’”

“Underground Force?” Marius asked, baffled “I’m new…” he offered, as he saw Éponine crooking her brow, incredulous.

“You have no idea what you've gotten into, Mons…Marius” she corrected herself and looked at him with curiosity, as if she was balancing the pros and cons of telling him whatever she was about to disclose “The Underground Force is a group of…ruffians, to put it kindly, who snatch children, lost kids, gamins of the streets, whatever kid they can get their hands on, and bring them here for a pay. My father and my mother have been doing this work for years, but with the political power these people are getting, they’re needed less and less each day. My sister and I were too old to be accepted but Gavroche…he was the perfect age. He sold him and I’m planning to get him out, whatever the cost”

Marius had never known what it was like to have a brother or a sister, but could guess the amount of loyalty that Éponine felt for her siblings. Enough to climb an electrified fence and be willing to do it again, if it was the price to pay.

“I can search for him” Marius offered.

He was there to investigate about the family he had lost, after all, and if he could assist someone’s family so it wouldn't be destroyed like his had been, he was going to do it.

“Would you?” Éponine’s face lightened up, smiling brightly “For real? If you’re lying to me, Marius, I swear to god…”

“I promise, I’ll look for him and make sure he’s ok” he said “I think I know some people in there who can help me locate him, and maybe let him out…”

“In there?” she frowned “No one in there is to trust, I know you’re new but you shouldn't trust doctors in there, they’re all bastards”

“No, not doctors…a group of inmates” Marius said with determination. 

* * *

“We need to do something!” Enjolras’s tone was terminating, his eyes started to glow faintly.

Nobody, not even the doctors and psychiatrists in that damn place could get him this upset, this out of control. Grantaire, though, knew exactly how to and did it often. Enjolras ignored if he did it on purpose of if that was just how they were, their personalities, their minds were just that much different. Maybe that was why their powers were exactly opposite to each other. Still, Enjolras wanted to understand Grantaire, he wanted to give him a chance but everything always ended up in…

“You don’t _need_ to do it, Enjolras, you _choose_ to risk your life in a futile attempt to change things and take everyone else with you as you do it!”  Grantaire’s eyes were faintly growing grayer, more diffuse, like a silver mist taking over his sight.

“And what? We should let these kids die?” Enjolras stood up, glowering at the man still sitting down across from him.

They were in the back of the storage room, one of the places they knew wasn't guarded with cameras or microphones, and that was empty for the night. Still, rising their voices like this wasn't advisable and, even if Combeferre hadn't yet developed any mutation that let him communicate with his mind, Enjolras knew he was about to ask him to calm down. Nevertheless, Enjolras couldn't calm down when it came to Grantaire. The man was his personal and custom made weakness.

“Well, if you die, which difference would it make?” the cynic man added “You think they won’t eventually get tired of all your shit, of all these silly games of attacking vans and letting 15, 20 kids escape each week?” he stood up, defiant “There are two likeable reasons why they hadn’t kill us all yet”

“Which are…?” Courfeyrac asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“First, they seem to have a steady supply of kids and teenagers galore, which means one or two vans a week mean shit to them.” he said, looking at Courfeyrac, and then turned slowly back to Enjolras “And two, for some unknown reason, we’re still valuable to them. Which means that, probably, whatever they’re trying to do with the generations after us isn’t working, that’s why they’re dying like flies, and they can’t afford to get rid of their favorite guinea pigs yet” he closed the distance between him and Enjolras and the blond could smell liquor in his breath.

He had been in the kitchens again, sneaking out bottles. Enjolras ignored how Grantaire, with his intolerable personality, could get acquaintances all over the facilities and get away with things like that but yet deny to try making important changes in the place.

“If they’re convinced enough with whatever they’re trying that they don’t mind killing dozens of inmates a week,” Combeferre added, as Enjolras and Grantaire stared at each other “it can only mean that whatever they’re trying to do will be worse if accomplished”

“It’s not just about saving the kids, Grantaire, it’s about stopping this madness once and for all” Feuilly intervened.

“And you _really_ think that destroying this place and everyone in it will be enough to stop this from happening?” his gaze traveled to Feuilly then, but Enjolras kept looking at him.

“It’s not about destroying this place,” the blond stated, attracting Grantaire’s attention once more “it’s about making enough noise that people outside _listen_ , that they find out what is going on”

“ _Dozens_ of kids are disappearing from this city, Enjolras, dozens _a week_ now” Grantaire never stopped looking into his eyes, and Enjolras could see the engulfing gray mist in them “and _nobody_ has asked a _single_ question yet. What makes you think this time will be different?”

“Because we’ll make them see” Enjolras said, and added, challenging “I’ll make _you_ see”

Yes, Grantaire was his weakness, but also his anchor. Somehow, Enjolras couldn't imagine his life without his opposite anymore. 

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I'm going to be publishing cards with information on the guys so you have a clear idea of their abilities and past without me having to explain and bore you to no end. These are not their full records but introductory cards doctors carry around to know who they are and how to treat them (or contain them).  
> The bit about the unidentified bodies being dropped behind cathedrals and the river is party from the 306 song (which is inspired by L'Inconnue de la Seine and the 306 bodies taken from the River Seine) and partly from the Dirty War in my country (many of the large number of people who went missing were discarded as well, many bodies were never found or identified). So, sadly, much inspiration for this came from real events.  
> My confidence in this fic is sort of faltering, but here we are. Thanks so much for reading! here are some sparkles (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


	3. Tears from the sky, one last goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Still, Enjolras didn't pay attention to this, focusing solely on getting Grantaire to calm down, of warming him up with his own light, his own hope on the future, bringing him back to the world he was so strongly trying to dissappear from. Enjolras couldn't fathom the idea of losing this man, as if his life without him would lose its balance. It was scary for Enjolras, who had always sought independence, to feel his life so connected to someone else's._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Of meeting new people, losing old friends and time running out faster than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes the new chapter, let's hope for the best *closes eyes and presses 'post'*. Again, I own nothing but this lame re-contextualization and these characterizations that are open to debate. The title from this chapter is from 'One Last Goodbye' by Dark Princess.

As much as they wanted to help, Courfeyrac knew that there were serious limitations. Not every van could be intercepted, not every kid could get out and not every teenager had the energy to run or fight back anymore. The group of friends was what the doctors called “the 2nd Generation” and they were the seniors in the Institute. Every other inmate exposed to experiments and genetic interventions had entered the facilities after they had. For reasons unknown to them, no group after them had had as much success as they did when it came to developing special abilities and nothing was known of the 1st Generation that had come before them. For whichever reason, none of them had been there when the group of friends had arrived and Courfeyrac didn't want to think much about it, in case the reason was that they had replaced them and, unknowingly, caused their deaths. You never knew in that place.

Still, whenever new children and teenagers were institutionalized there, disregards their efforts, the group of friends tried to search for them and talk to them, let them know what was likely to happen, where to go for help, let them know they weren't as alone as they felt. When Courfeyrac had arrived, nobody else had been there yet to do it for him, and the only reason he had kept sane was because he was naturally optimistic, always trying to search for the rainbow after the storm. The next one to arrive had been Combeferre and things had been much easier with him around. When, some months later, Grantaire had joined, an 11 year old boy with sadness written all over his face, Courfeyrac and Combeferre had become stronger by trying to protect and shelter their new friend from the darkness outside and inside his own head. Feuilly had joined next and, some months later, Enjolras, whose sole presence was enough to make Grantaire come out of his shell and become a person once more. Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had clicked instantly and became a tripod that was going to keep the group together through thick and thin. Bossuet, the oldest of the group, had been the next to arrive, followed by Bahorel and, a year later, Joly. Jehan was the last one included to the group, the youngest of them all and, also, someone Courfeyrac had felt tied to ever since he had appeared. Jehan, like Courfeyrac, wore his heart on his sleeve, but was more sensitive, melancholic and darkness had a place in his head as in Grantaire’s, which had brought the two of them together since the very beginning. But darkness always sought light and light always needed darkness. Just as Grantaire and Enjolras gravitated towards each other in an infernal dance of unresolved sexual tension, according to Courfeyrac himself, he and Jehan seemed to find shelter in each other, almost instinctively.

Courfeyrac had been with his fair share of people inside the Institute, believe it or not; nurses, mostly, some intern or other and some inmates too. If you knew where to look for intimacy, you could be able to find it. Everyone in their group had, at some point, explored the perks of puberty and beyond somewhere in the facilities, especially since other inmates kept arriving, other generations with ages not so different from theirs. Everyone but Enjolras, that is, he felt it a distraction. But, even with his experience in secluded places, with nice enough nurses and cute inmates who wanted to kiss him in camera-less corners, Courfeyrac had always craved for Jehan. It had been just the year before that he had finally told him what he felt, in Jehan’s 18th birthday, and they had been exclusively together since then. Even if they weren’t free, even if things weren’t good and there were changes to be made, Courfeyrac thanked he had gotten to know these people and, particularly, the love of his life. And, if he could meet new inmates and tell them his story (maybe without the explicit scenes) to give them some sort of hope, he was going to do it.

Bahorel and himself were sitting in one of the common rooms, doing just that, when he saw him. The little kid was fast, taking a piece of bread and a bottle of milk and running through the others, back to where he had come from. Between the scared and lethargic children he was surrounded by, the little ash blond kid was like a thunder, filled with energy and purpose. Courfeyrac didn’t understand where the kid was going with such a hurry, until he saw the pile of chairs he had placed on the corner of the wall, just outside the range of the security camera, and climbed them with ease to get inside the air vent. That was why he wasn’t tired and his reflexes were intact, he had escaped medication and treatments all along. Now, _that_ was a new recruit for their cause if there was one.

If Courfeyrac knew the facilities as he thought he did, he had a fair idea of where this child was going. He signaled Bahorel to follow him and they exited the common room, walking towards a janitor’s closet not too far from there.

“What the hell are we…?” Bahorel’s question died in his mouth as Courfeyrac opened the door and the little blond kid with olive skin and grey eyes looked up to him, his mouth filled with bread.

“You, sir,” Courfeyrac said, his hand still on the door handle “must be the famous Gavroche Marius was asking me about”

“Who wants to know?” the kid looked defiant, not scared in the least, and Courfeyrac thought they might have just found the bravest little soldier they could have asked for.

“A friend, believe me.” Courfeyrac kneeled in front of Gavroche and looked up to the kid, who was sitting on a metal box, still chewing the bread “Your sister asked for you, she wants to get you out, and I think we might need your vent raider abilities before we let you go, little one”

“Why would I help you?” Gavroche had perked up at the mention of his sister but remained skeptical.

Courfeyrac loved this kid already.

“Because we want to destroy this fuckin’ place and I think you’d like that too” Bahorel said, from the door.

“ _Language_ ” Courfeyrac frowned at his friend.

“I’ve heard worse” the kid chewed another bite of his bread “I’m listening, what do you want me to do?”

* * *

“He hates me, I tell you” Grantaire sighed and threw himself dramatically on the bed, his arm covering his eyes “but I just _can’t_ stay away from him…it’s like he’s a lamp, bright and beautiful, and I’m a moth flying around him and getting burned whenever I come close, but I keep returning…dear god, I’m spending too much time with Combeferre, now I’m making metaphors about _moths_ ”

“Well, love makes you say stupid things” she turned around from the shirt she was sewing and arched an eyebrow, her beautiful smile lightening her face.

“Number one, I wouldn’t go to the extent of calling my metaphors _stupid,_ ” Grantaire looked at her from his position in the bed “and number two, I never said the word _love_ , Floréal”

“You don’t need to say it, R, it’s implicit in how you worship the guy” she turned to her sewing again, the stupid sufficient smile still on her face “He’s pretty gorgeous, I’ll give you that”

“That’s the understatement of the century” Grantaire muttered.

“And he likes you a lot too” she added, ignoring his comment.

“Well, I don’t know what substances you’ve been sneaking from the kitchen or the labs, Floréal, but you should share” he sat up again, resting his weight on his arms.

“I’ve seen how he looks at you, how he stares when you’re not looking and trying to figure out where you are when you’re not around. He asked me where you were once, that time you didn’t speak to each other for like two weeks, he didn’t even remember my code name or my nickname, it was very awkward but extremely adorable” she giggled.

“HE ASKED YOU ABOUT ME? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Grantaire stood up and reached Floréal’s desk with two strides.

“I forgot, I guess” she giggled again, the devilish woman.

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile. He was fond of this girl, always so cheerful, no matter what. They had been together, once or twice, years before, when they both felt they needed warmth and didn’t dare ask anybody else, and remained friends ever since. She was in love now, with a nice nurse from the second floor called after some flower Grantaire couldn’t quite remember, and love made her glow even more. The nurse had a brother who was a doctor in the Institute and had promised Floréal and his sister that if she attended a minor checkup that very afternoon, he was going to sneak Floréal with him later, so she could live happily ever after with his little sister. Grantaire hoped the plan went smoothly, Floréal deserved a fairy tale and he knew the nurse loved her dearly. The brother, though, was someone Grantaire wasn’t very fond of. He was always offering them trades, with medicine, with checkups, with controls; he was a tricky, cunning guy, always with deals you couldn’t help but accept, that was why Grantaire had nicknamed him “the banker”.

“Promise me you’ll run for me if something happens today, Floréal” he told her, now extremely serious.

“Grantaire, I trust Delphine’s brother, I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt me” she looked at him with a sincere smile, and handed him the shirt he had ripped and she had kindly sewn back together.

“I hope you’re right, because if I kill a banker, start a whole riot and send Enjolras’s plan to hell, he wouldn’t be pleased” Grantaire bent down and kissed her cheek “Thanks for everything, dear, and I wish you the happiest of lives with Delphine”

“Thanks, R, and remember, don’t you dare go into a life or death battle without having told Enjolras how you feel”

Grantaire sighed.

“Just for you, ‘Real, just for you” and he left her room, without looking back.

* * *

Marius was nearing the Institute, turning the same corner where he had met Éponine days before, when he saw another girl looking through the gate, her hand on the bars and standing on her tip toes. She was wearing a soft colored dress that hugged her prominent curves, which many women with a body like hers might have wanted to disguise instead of embrace. Her strawberry blonde hair was blowing in the wind and the soft skin of her face was traced with freckles.

Marius’s heart skipped a beat.

“Excuse me…” he said, visibly nervous.

The girl turned around and Marius saw the most beautiful pale blue eyes he had ever seen. He wasn’t able to continue speaking, his mind went blank.

“I’m sorry, do you work here?” she asked, glancing briefly at Marius’s ID tag but looking away suddenly, maybe thinking it was disrespectful to stare.

She was adorable. Marius was doomed.

“Yes” he mumbled, definitely proving how he was the opposite of smooth.

“Do you know how someone could access some archives? If it is at all possible?” her sight was fixated in Marius, wishing for an affirmative answer but expecting the opposite.

“I’m afraid that’s classified, and I’m just an intern so…” he didn’t want to sound unhelpful, but messing with archives was a whole new level of dangerous, especially if he was trying to be subtle and pretend he was a decent worker until he actually helped some interns to destroy the place.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to impose something on you” she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes “I’m Cosette, by the way, Cosette Fauchelevent” she offered her hand to shake and Marius thought he was going to pass out.

“Marius, Marius Pontmercy” he said, taking her hand softly, but she shook his with confidence.

“Can I ask you something, Marius, something unusual?” she let go of his hand and pierced him with her gaze.

Marius nodded, awkwardly.

“Does this place have…do they treat people with…” she seemed to look for the right word “ _powers_?” she settled on saying, and Marius couldn’t help but stare “I know, it sounds absurd, it’s just that…” Cosette bit her lip and Marius hoped he wasn’t caught staring at that.

“I…what do you mean, exactly?” Marius offered, unsure about what information was wise to share with a total stranger.

A very beautiful stranger, yes, but a stranger nonetheless.

“Ok, I’m gonna be honest with you, Marius Pontmercy, but I’m going to tell you something first:” she stood close to him, close enough he could smell her jasmine perfume “you betray my trust and try to get me or someone I care about arrested and I will personally see that you regret it, _understood_?” she punctuated it placing her index finger in his chest.

Marius felt threatened, terrified and very attracted to this girl.

“I understand” he moved his hands nervously as Cosette changed her piercing glare to a smile.

“Alright, do you have time for this? Can you be a little late? I’d rather talk this over somewhere less…” she looked at the building behind them “...creepy”

“I think Monsieur Mabeuf can cover for me” he offered, taking out his communication device and tapping something in his holographic keybord “I know a café not too far from here”

He turned crimson red, avoiding her gaze, and she smiled, this time fully.

“Lead the way, then, Marius Pontmercy”

* * *

The sky threatened to pour any minute, but they were all outside, in the courtyard of the back of the building, waiting for the cart to exit. They were unable to do anything more than look and try to guess whether the corpses had increased that week. It was an awful task but, as they worked on a plan to investigate further and access the archives they needed, there was nothing more they could do but observe that terrible reality pass in front of their eyes.

Enjolras heard the cries and shouts before the cart came in to view, and they all paid attention instantly. The hovering cart, guided by two guards with controllers, was piled with corpses of young inmates of different ages, physical complexions and genders. The one placed highest was that of a girl, her curly auburn hair falling to the side and her limp arms pale and motionless. Another girl, a nurse, was the one crying. She was desperately grasping a doctor’s coat, her tears glistening in her young face, screaming with uncontrollable violence at the man. She was small, fragile looking, but, in that moment, she looked dangerous. The doctor didn't do more than try to whisk her away, and denied the guards’ help when they offered to take her away more forcefully.

“No…” Grantaire’s voice sounded broken and, even in a whisper, caught the attention of the group of friends.

He ran towards the cart with an agility that seemed foreign to him and Enjolras, as if responding to a force of attraction unknown to him, followed suit.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he shouted at the doctor, confronting him with a fearsome glare.

The man turned to him, startled, and the girl looked at Grantaire with so much pain that Enjolras had to look away.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Grantaire raised his fist but before the guards could intercede, Enjolras placed himself in front of his friend, grabbing his shoulders and turning his back to the doctor.

“What do you want?” the doctor’s voice trembled slightly, seemingly threatened not only by Grantaire but also by the rest of his friends, who were running towards them.

“She trusted you, you filthy piece of shit!” he tried to push Enjolras away, grabbing his arms and pressing strongly, but the blond was not going to let go that easily.

“You said…you promised…” the girl fell to her knees, still grabbing the doctor’s coat.

Courfeyrac reached her and touched her arm, trying to calm her down, but, to everyone’s surprise, he suddenly pulled away, as if he had been burned by the young nurse’s skin.

“What is going on out here?!” doctor Philippe, one of the head physicians of the Institute, exited the building and regarded the group of friends with severity, no trace of the hesitation the other doctor had in him.

Grantaire looked at the young doctor in front of him and Enjolras could feel his friend’s skin getting colder. Enjolras ignored if Grantaire could manipulate his shadows enough to hurt someone else, like he himself could do channeling his light, but he was certain that Grantaire was going to do whatever it took to fight that man. It was only then that Enjolras looked away from Grantaire’s eyes, still focused on the doctor, and saw the dead girl in the cart. He couldn't remember her code name but remembered having looked for her one time he and Grantaire had fought. He turned again to his friend, hands still on his shoulders.

“Grantaire,” he said, not raising his voice but with the confidence that characterized him “look at me”

The young man did as told, but his glare was still as intense and his body heat was lowering more by the second.

“We’ll make them pay” Enjolras’s voice was steady, low, just for Grantaire to hear.

“But we’ll never bring her back! She deserved happiness, Enjolras! She deserved freedom! She _believed_ …” Grantaire’s voice lost its power, his glare softened and darkness started swirling around him and Enjolras, like a cold curtain made of shadows “she believed people could be good, just like _you_ do” he said, almost imperceptibly.

Enjolras felt Grantaire disappearing. The coldness around them grew stronger and the darkness threatened to swallow them both. The blond then, afflicted by an instinctive fear of losing Grantaire in the darkness that surrounded him, held him tightly, in a warm embrace that irradiated the light that came from within him, light that dissipated the darkness, slowly and steadily.

Grantaire, shocked by this closeness, hesitated before hugging Enjolras back. He trembled in the blond’s arms, his head in the crook of the other’s neck, sobbing and holding him for dear life. The electric current they had felt before, when their different energies collided while touching, was there again, intense and scary, but it didn't hurt as much as feel strange and curiously empowering. Still, Enjolras didn't pay attention to this, focusing solely on getting Grantaire to calm down, of warming him up with his own light, his own hope on the future, bringing him back to the world he was so strongly trying to dissappear from. Enjolras couldn't fathom the idea of losing this man, as if his life without him would lose its balance. It was scary for Enjolras, who had always sought independence, to feel his life so connected to someone else's. 

They were caught up in their embrace when they heard the shot. Enjolras turned around, still holding Grantaire in his grasp, and saw the nurse falling to the ground, her grasp on the doctor’s coat weakening. Her pristine white uniform was turning red, as the blood dripped from the wound on her chest and spread further, tainting the doctor’s white lab coat as well. A guard beside Dr. Philippe was still in position, holding the gun that had ended the life of the young woman, but the senior doctor was impassive.

The young doctor, though, was not. He reached down to the corpse of the young nurse and held her lifeless body in his hands.

“Delphine…” he murmured, and turned his gaze to the other doctor “She was my sister…”

“She was compromised, Armand, you know that,” Dr. Philippe’s voice lacked emotion “her infatuation with an inmate was useful for our purposes but could have presented more complications than solutions now that she’s of no use anymore. We aren’t going to try to prohibit inmates from relating with each other,” he looked at the group of friends then, his tone more severe “ _unless_ it becomes a potential threat to our purposes.” his sight was then fixed on Enjolras and Grantaire, still holding each other, the light and darkness surrounding them now nowhere to be seen.

Grantaire was about to advance towards the man, but Enjolras held him firmly. It was ironic, Enjolras thought, that he was the one stopping the other from fighting. There was nothing Enjolras wanted more than to make justice for all the dead, including Grantaire’s friend and her girlfriend, and set everyone in that building free from that prison. But if they were to succeed, they needed to be smart.

“All of you seem to be always in the wrong place at the wrong time, I see.” he looked at Enjolras then, defiant “I suggest you retire to take your medication and stop wasting your abilities in unnecessary mischief. The abilities you have and the things we do here are for the better of the human race, of our great nation, and the sooner you understand it, the better it will be for everyone involved.” and, with that, he turned his back on them and entered the building.

Enjolras was still holding Grantaire, but now it was him the one looking for support. Human betterment? The improvement of the nation? How many deaths was this narrow-minded version of ‘progress’ going to bring? Who was, then, going to be alive enough to enjoy it when it was finally there, if they all died in the process? Who were these people to command what was better for mankind and what was not? In any case, there was one thing certain: their confidence in their experiments was not faltering and if they didn't find out what they were really striving for, the Institute was going to become unstoppable. They had to do something, and fast.

The rain started to pour mercilessly as the cart was taken away. Enjolras was close enough to Grantaire to listen him whispering:

“Goodbye, Floréal, be free”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I feel awful for introducing a character and then having to do this. I wasn't going to include Floréal at the beginning but I was carefully reading 'Preliminary Gayeties' to work on my R and I felt she could be a good part of the story (Floréal is a nickname here as well, some of them use their code names and others have nicknames in between inmates, like Jehan or Bossuet or, occasionally, R). I don't know, I hope the way I chose to write her isn't too discouraging for you, lovely people reading this. Thanks so much for the comments and kudos you've left so far, I wasn't planning on getting a response at all for this, it's very much appreciated to know people actually reads this fic. Thanks again and here are some flowers for you all ✿~✿~✿~✿


	4. I wanna see myself painted an invisible grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Grantaire looked up at Enjolras then and felt as he was looking straight to the sun: the man’s eyes were turning golden and his curls were glowing with intensity. Grantaire wanted to look away, because the feeling of that angel’s wrath punishing him and getting further from him with every word they said was turning him apart. But he couldn't, he just grew colder and darker, feeling like he needed to escape that reality again._
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> _“Why can’t you see that you’re strong, that you can make a difference?! That you have a sharp mind and incredible abilities that can help us?!” Enjolras was out of control and everyone noticed it, but it was too late “Don’t you care about these people at all?!”_
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> _And then, Grantaire was visible again. His shadows drew back, his eyes a grey storm brewing and foreboding danger. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If, for some strange reason, someone has been waiting for this fic to be updated, I apologize for the delay. I'm changing the raiting to E because some of the smut is already here. I know by saying this I'll spoil something and probably ruin surprises but if I was a reader of this fic that promises e/R as a main couple and see it's rated E for smut but finds out the one in this particular chapter isn't e/R, I'd be disappointed. So, to be perfectly clear: there will be e/R smut in the future, it's actually a very important part of the plot, I'm not just luring you in with promises of explicit content and then just focus it in other couples only. So, warning for explicit content from here on. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is from the song 'Heavy Stone' by Kyla La Grange.

“We don’t even know where to begin!” Grantaire was sitting in a corner of the storage room, a bottle of heaven knows what in his hand.

Maybe Feuilly was the one that could teleport, but it was definitely Grantaire who knew where to find the cool stuff, Courfeyrac thought.

“Probably among the last few archives, the ones about the kids who are being slaughtered…” Bahorel dropped down next to Grantaire and extended a hand, expecting him to share the drink.

“That will just tell us what they’re failing at, not the general idea of their plan” Feuilly frowned at Bahorel, from his seat on top of some boxes.

“If you’re so cool, ginger, why don’t _you_ teleport in there instead of having us risk a kid’s safety?” the broad man passed the bottle back to Grantaire.

“You know they placed a tracking device inside me! There are locations I can’t teleport to and those include the _fucking archive section_!” the redhead realized he had raised his voice and blushed.

“I know, I just like to piss you off as a general diversion” Bahorel smirked and Feuilly appeared right in front of him in the blink of an eye, starling him.

“We just need a clue, a hint to point us in the right direction…” Combeferre closed his eyes and frowned, like he did when he was looking through the memories he held inside his head.

“I think I might be able to help with that” a voice said from the door, and all the friends were suddenly as startled as Bahorel had been seconds before.

“Marius, for the love of…” Courfeyrac exhaled and made a dramatic gesture “Don’t scare us like that…”

“What are you doing here?” Joly asked.

“And what do you mean you can help?” Bossuet added.

It was scary sometimes for Courfeyrac to see how connected those two could be.

“I told Courfeyrac I had something to ask him about and he said I could meet you here…” Marius was still an awkward bundle of nerves, but he seemed more confident than the first time they had seen him “and what I had to say is what I think can be helpful”

“We’re listening, Pontmercy” Enjolras signaled him to sit down and they all followed suit.

“I met a girl,” he started, and the blush he was sporting was enough to make some of them whistle, elbow him and snigger “she was outside the Institute the other day”

“That seems to happen a lot…” Courfeyrac commented, remembering Marius had told him about Éponine and Gavroche not so long before.

“Anyway, she seemed to know things about this place…classified things…and she told me her story, to see if I could be of help, give her some information too”

“Marius, are we anywhere near the perimeter of the point yet?” Grantaire commented, passing his bottle to Joly.

“She was born here, in this Institute” Marius said, and the room suddenly became deadly silent.

“Not only there has _never_ been any record of babies being treated here,” Combeferre, the expert on statistics of the place, seemed absolutely sure about that “but I also seriously doubt they would let someone leave this place just like that”

“That’s the thing, it seems her father…her adoptive father, that is, used to work here as a doctor. For the past months, they had been moving around the city, and lately, she noticed her father was becoming even more wary of their surroundings, until one day she caught a glimpse of an agent from this Institute following them. And that was before she discovered she had…powers, like you guys.” Marius’s statement was met with surprised stares, so he decided to continue narrating the girl’s story “She found a drive inside a safety box her father kept, it contained her birth information. There was also an ID tag, but it seems he used another name while he worked here. It also had the code name of her mom and her record number, but no more than that.”

“This is all more than interesting, Marius, it really is,” Courfeyrac interrupted “but what does this girl and her mother have to do with all these deaths?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I know they’re connected somehow, there are a couple of things that make me think so.” Marius talked more confidently and everyone listened closely “First, if Cosette was born here, as the record her father had states, that would make her mom a 1st Generation patient; and second, the agent was sent to look for her father when all these deaths started happening, not before. That means her mother’s case must be some sort of key for what is happening and, also, that they somehow ignore that Cosette was born here, since they didn’t seem to be looking for her but for her father. They don’t know she has abilities of her own.”

“Do you know which agent they sent to find her father?” Enjolras asked, already fearing who the man could be.

“Judging by her description of him, I’m pretty sure it was Javert” Marius answered.

They all fell silent again and looked at each other knowingly.

“What? what’s wrong?” Marius inquired, puzzled.

“You haven’t been here long enough to know, but Javert isn’t just an agent, he’s the head of the search department and he almost never goes patrolling unless it’s a matter of life and death.” Joly explained.

“If they sent Javert after her father, then something about her mother’s case is crucial for them now, after…how old is this girl, Marius?” Combeferre asked.

“She’s 18, like me” Marius blushed again.

Courfeyrac smiled, it seemed Marius had a little crush on this mysterious lady.

“That’s the file we need, that’s the drive Gavroche will have to steal.” Enjolras stood up, determined “If we can figure out what experiments they were conducting on this girl’s mother and why she died, we might be able to link the pieces together”

“Wait, Gavroche?” Marius stood up as well “You want to use _Gavroche_ for that? He’s just a kid! I promised his sister…”

“That you’ll help him out, we know.” Courfeyrac moved towards Marius and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder “He’ll infiltrate through the vents in the archive section, where Feuilly can’t go,” the ginger shot daggers at Courfeyrac “and get the drive with this girl’s…”

“Cosette” Marius corrected.

“…Cosette’s mother’s records. We’ll use your computer to decode the information, Combeferre will use his fast reading skills an awesome memory to go through the files, we’ll find out what’s going on in this creepy home of ours and we’ll let the kid out in no time!” Courfeyrac smiled brightly.

“And you plan on doing that how, exactly?” Grantaire smirked.

 

“Patience, my shady fellow,” the smile on Courfeyrac’s face didn’t falter “is a virtue”

* * *

It turned out they required more than just patience to figure out the most appropriate way of approaching the matter. Between sessions for developing their mutations, psychiatric evaluations, medical examinations and all the security they had brought on themselves, there was almost no time for them to decide on a plan, even less to achieve the level of organization that Combeferre most certainly would have wanted them to have. Enjolras knew that time was not on their side and they had two priorities: first, find the information they required and second, the most important one, Gavroche’s safety.

The kid had been more than willing to help them and even argued with them to let him stay for the long run; if they were going to overthrow the people controlling that place, Gavroche wanted to be there not just to see it happen but to participate. For such a young boy, the kid had understood at an early age what his parents were up to and what the place they worked for did to innocent people. Every time the child brought home new friends, they ended up disappearing and it didn’t take much time from him to understand that his parents had to do with it. What Enjolras and the rest of the group learned about him, that his own sister ignored, was that Gavroche could have escaped when his father decided to sell him to the Institute, but he chose to be caught in order to find two of his lost friends, who had disappeared less than a month before, help them endure their stay and, eventually, escape. Thanks to Gavroche, these two kids had been successfully avoiding the medication that often turn children lethargic and easy to control, and Gavroche was going to follow Éponine’s request to escape with the condition that these two kids, a boy and a girl, escaped alongside him. Enjolras knew that helping Gavroche escape was going to be extremely more difficult than attacking a few vans, and adding more kids to the equation wasn’t a wise decision, but the little man had earned all the group’s respect and they decided to agree on his terms.

The most complicated part of this plan, though, was that Gavroche was to enter the archives twice: one time to retrieve the drive with the information and another one to put it back, to avoid the attention its disappearance might give them. The plan was to create a perimeter around the area with all the young mutants whose powers could help distract all guards that went their way: Bossuet with his illusions, Courfeyrac with his transmission of feelings and Joly with his creation of false symptoms. Meanwhile, Bahorel was to help Gavroche up towards the vent and down as he returned, Combeferre had to read and decode the files with Marius’s help and device and copy the information as fast as he could, Jehan could create a lamp, to help Gavroche find his way in the dark archive room, and a rope, for him to climb down from the vent window and inside said room safely. Enjolras could provide a faint light so they could avoid having to switch the ones on that section of the floor on and alert the control center of their use. Feuilly was going to use his ability to reach all the cameras around them and cover them, but they didn't have much time until the people controlling them noticed something was out of place. Finally, Grantaire was the one with the hardest task of all, and Enjolras was really hoping he could pull through, especially after he had been affected with the loss of a close friend not so long before. Grantaire’s task was to use his shadow around Gavroche, so the security cameras Feuilly could not reach, the ones inside the archive room, wouldn’t capture his image. The problem was that Grantaire had used the shadows on himself and others around him often but he hadn’t been able to practice his ability to project it to others at a distance. He could do it, they knew that much, but it could fail. With time running out and more innocent deaths every week, there was no time to find another option and Enjolras knew Grantaire had the power to do it, he just needed the confidence.

“You need to guide him, Enjolras” Combeferre said, once they were all in position.

“How would I know what to say?” the blond looked at his friend with uncertainty.

“Your mutations are extraordinarily similar, you share many traits with each other, I’m sure if you guide him through what you do to channel and direct your energy, he’ll be able to accomplish this.” Combeferre smiled “Besides, he trusts you.”

Enjolras saw the implications of those words all over Combeferre’s knowing smile but had absolutely no time for that nonsense right then and there. Combeferre knew better than anyone in their group of friends that Enjolras had been exponentially confused about his feelings for Grantaire and how contradictory those could be. He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the man in question, who was touching the wall that separated them from the archives. Gavroche was going to be on the other side and the only way Grantaire could use his energy on him was to visualize the boy like Jehan did with what he could transmute, Feuilly with the places he could teleport to and Joly with the symptoms he could impose on others. Having met Gavroche not to long before, it was something extremely difficult to ask the young man to do, but it was their only hope.

“Combeferre thinks that I can guide you through this” Enjolras offered, awkwardly, as he reached his friend.

“Really?” Grantaire smirked “I’m not sure a sun god like yourself would know all that much about shadows”

Of course, he had to make it difficult. As always.

“He says that our mutations are extremely similar,” Enjolras’s voice was determined, he was not going to start arguing with him then “so maybe the way I channel my energy can help you guide yours.”

Grantaire sighed.

“Enjolras, listen,” he then turned towards him for the first time and Enjolras could clearly see the fear and hesitation in the young man’s eyes “I appreciate your attempt here, I really do, but the way we use our _abilities_ is completely different.”

Grantaire always pronounced that word with disdain, unable to see his mutation as anything more than a torment or even a punishment, Enjolras had always ignored why he considered he deserved such a punishment in the first place.

“How so?” the blond asked, trying to keep his voice even and not argue with Grantaire under those circumstances.

“You glow with confidence, with the faith you have in what you want to change and the world you want to build. You have strong ideas, you don’t quiver, you don’t doubt and you just…you _believe._ ” he sighed again, and looked extremely tired “I try to disappear because I can’t stand this world and I can’t believe it could ever become a place I would like to inhabit. I bring darkness because that’s all I am, all there is in me: disbelief.” he smiled, but it seemed forced and foreign in his face “If you tell me to visualize a better nation and free people to get my energy going, you will accomplish nothing, that’s not what arouses my mutation” he smirked, and Enjolras wondered how he was capable of going from a defeatist attitude to a description of his inmost insecurities and towards a sexual innuendo so fast in the same conversation.

“What does then?” he asked, blushing.

“What does what?” Grantaire seemed honestly puzzled.

“Arouse you…your mutation, I mean…you know what I mean” he stumbled through the words and blushed even harder but Grantaire seemed to be in a similar state himself.

“Erm…I…I don’t know” he answered, avoiding Enjolras’s gaze.

“Is there something you can focus on? something to hold on to as you keep going?” he offered, and Grantaire shrugged “Sometimes, I think of you” he said, and got nervous when he saw how Grantaire looked at him, his eyes wide open “All of you, I mean, my friends…my true family”

Grantaire’s surprise diminished but didn’t disappear.

“Maybe if you just…stay beside me and…just talk to me, maybe it could help a bit” he mumbled, and Enjolras nodded.

“Let’s start, then” Enjolras’s determination was evident in his voice and it seemed to inspire some courage in Grantaire.

While Feuilly used his teleportation to check on his friends’ perimeter and tell them whether they were safe, the group of friends near the archives set the plan in motion. Bahorel helped Gavroche up and passed him the items Jehan had created, which were to last as long as Jehan’s energy permitted it, to then vanish into nothing as fast as they had been made. Gavroche’s agility was impressive, the result of a lifetime of hiding throughout the city, so he was able to reach the other side considerably fast.

Enjolras could feel Grantaire trembling slightly beside him, concentrating with all his might in keeping Gavroche protected.

“Just visualize him, feel his energy and follow it around wherever you sense it.” Enjolras whispered, just to Grantaire alone “He has a very particular energy, doesn’t he? It’s strong, since he hasn’t been medicated ever since he got here. It’s like a loud energy, I feel it like…”

“A thunderbolt” Grantaire said, his eyes still closed but not shivering anymore.

“Exaclty” Enjolras smiled “Just follow that energy around, focus your shadow as it was an extension of yourself, as if you were a shield containing that energy and protecting it”

Enjolras had discovered long ago that Grantaire had something he lacked of and would have liked to have: the ability to become a shield. Enjolras’s energy was powerful, probably more so than Grantaire’s, but it could be as destructive as it was beautiful. It could be used to build a better future, yes, but it was a weapon of attack. Grantaire, on the other hand, had the ability to protect, yet he disdained his abilities and used them to make himself disappear and drown in the darkness he created. If he could only see the potential he had for saving others…

“Tell me what it feels like, Grantaire” Enjolras encouraged him as the man leaned on the wall, his energy running out faster with each passing second “Walk me through your process”

“It’s not a process, it’s just…” Grantaire was about to protest but decided to trust Enjolras yet again “I can locate him and follow his energy, then I use the darkness I can sense to surround him, but not too strongly because they can smother you if you’re not careful…”

Enjolras remembered when they were in the courtyard and Grantaire had lost his composure, the coldness and the strong sense of drowning he had felt then.

“It’s like making a wall of sand…you just push it around and place it as you want, but keep checking if it stays in place, because sometimes it can falter…” Grantaire’s brow wasn’t furrowed anymore and his posture seemed less strained and more relaxed “The shadows are already there, it’s not like with you and your light that comes within you, I just manipulate the ones that already exist…the ones that have always been around me”

 

And then, Grantaire opened his eyes, as Gavroche exited the vent and fell on Bahorel’s arms with the drive on his hand. Enjolras touched Grantaire’s arm lightly and felt again that current of electrifying energy between them. They didn’t mind it, though, as they smiled at each other. 

* * *

After everything was done and Gavroche was safely in his room, preparing for his great escape on the following night, the group of friends was again gathered in the storage room, where they went through the information they had copied from the patient’s file.

Her code name had been Fantine, and as Marius had predicted, she had been a 1st Generation patient. What they hadn’t imagined was that she had been the last of the 1st Generation patients to die.

“For what I can gather,” Combeferre said, who was looking at the information with Marius beside him, on Marius’s personal computer “they wanted her to be immune to diseases and heal herself from injuries…they wanted her to be invulnerable to everything except time.” Combeferre’s eyes glowed with the turquoise light of the holographic screen “She was supposed to die of age but nothing else, that was their intention: a human capable to stand every weapon, even biological ones.”

“But it didn’t work” Courfeyrac added.

“See, that’s the curious part.” Combeferre’s sight never left the screen and read at a speed that nobody could keep up with “She was exposed to torturing methods, diseases, injuries and her mutation was not responding, but then her vitals started going up at a high speed and had a period of recovery in which the mutation was seemingly working…”

“Can you spot any differences between those periods of treatments? Methods, medicine, surgery?” Enjolras was pacing back and forth, his gaze focused on the floor and his mind entirely on the case at hand.

“Not really, no, the only difference is…” Combeferre stopped scrolling through the screen so dramatically that they all turned to him in surprise “the doctor in charge of her development” he finished.

“How is that even relevant?” Grantaire was leaning on Jehan and recovering from his massive use of energy but was still able to taint his comments with his very characteristic attitude.

“Of course, it all makes sense…” Combeferre was so absorbed in his discovery that he didn’t hear anyone around him “Marius, what was the name Cosette’s father used while he worked here?”

“Cosette said the ID read ‘Dr. Madeleine’” Marius remembered.

“Fantine had three attending doctors on her case, only three during her stay; Dr. Madeleine, Cosette’s father, was the one in her care while she had this particularly strange period of improvement.” Combeferre stated “And the one she had before was only with her for a few weeks, not only that but his name disappears from the records of the Institute in Marius’s computer very abruptly, as if he had escaped without previously giving any notice of his intentions.”

“I’m not following, Combeferre, what does that have to do with anything at all?” Bahorel asked from the boxes where he was sitting.

“How is it possible that a female patient gets pregnant and the Institute doesn’t notice?” Combeferre continued “Back then, the Institute didn’t have these many patients or these many doctors, so the care of the inmates was reduced to one personal attending. The tests on mutations were run by many doctors but the personal care was just supervised by one at a time. The only way the Institute would ignore Fantine’s pregnancy altogether was that the doctors in her care while she was pregnant helped her hide it. I suspect Cosette’s adoptive father did because he knew, as we do, the consequences it may have: inmates wouldn’t be able to keep their children and they would become inmates as well. That is why this doesn’t happen, not only because of their control but because of the patient’s awareness. It’s impossible that another inmate was Cosette’s biological father, given the level of personalized control the 1st Generation had, which means…”

“Her first doctor” Jehan breathed out the words.

“A certain Dr. Tholomyes, who disappeared mysteriously not even a month after starting treating her, might have been Cosette’s biological father; who freaked out after what he had done and didn’t have the courage to face it. Dr. Madeleine took over, helping Fantine with her pregnancy and, if my calculations are correct…” Combeferre scrolled down the screen again “yes, he left nine months later, presumably with baby Cosette. Another doctor took charge of Fantine but her symptoms came back to her all together, the ones she had been successfully suppressing in her recovering period, and she died less than a week after delivering her daughter.” Combeferre finished and there was a deadly silence among the group of friends.

“It was her,” Marius said, with a ghost of a voice that was only heard due to the silence surrounding them “it was Cosette who kept her mother alive”

“What?” Courfeyrac turned to Marius.

“Cosette was the one who developed the mutation, not her mother, she was keeping her alive while she was pregnant and, once born, she couldn’t anymore, so her mother died.” Marius’s eyes were fixed on the screen but he was staring at nothing in particular “Because that’s what she told me, that’s her power…she heals others, others and herself”

“Oh my god” Jehan put his hand over his mouth.

“And now they want to know how to duplicate that state her mother was in during her pregnancy but they can’t understand how she did it.” Enjolras wasn’t standing anymore, he sat on the floor between his friends “They suspect it might be what we know and sent Javert to find Dr. Madeleine. They want to sell what everyone wants: immunity to everything. If they find Cosette and prove themselves right…”

“They will start _breeding_ mutants and using inmates as disposable human incubators.” Combeferre finished, with disgust written all over his face “The only reason it worked was because another organism was processing the diseases but there was a living connection to let Cosette absorb the mutation and use her powers. One human being can’t stand the process, but two connected ones…” Combeferre shivered “They’re slaughtering kids and they’ll start slaughtering mothers.”

 

“After we let Gavroche out, we’ll have to finish this, once and for all.” Enjolras stated with renewed strength.

“And what would you have us do?” Grantaire asked, slowly straightening up from his position and not leaning on Jehan anymore “Burn the building with all these kids in here? Barricade the gate and not let anyone out until they shoot us all?” his voice was firm and it carried all the fears everyone had but weren’t willing to voice, as cruel and unfiltered as he always was.

“I wouldn’t risk everyone’s lives recklessly like that and you know it!” Enjolras stood up again, his eyes fixed on Grantaire “Why don’t you just stop throwing accusations at us and start collaborating with ideas for once!”

“Maybe I don’t have anything to collaborate with, maybe I’m just a useless pessimist as you always seem to think I am…” Grantaire’s eyes weren’t on Enjolras’s anymore.

“How can you say that?” Enjolras was glowing then, softly glowing and Grantaire could feel the heat irradiating from him “How dare you say something like that when you just protected a child’s life and made our whole endeavor possible?!”

Grantaire looked up at Enjolras then and felt as he was looking straight to the sun: the man’s eyes were turning golden and his curls were glowing with intensity. Grantaire wanted to look away, because the feeling of that angel’s wrath punishing him and getting further from him with every word they said was turning him apart. But he couldn’t, he just grew colder and darker, feeling like he needed to escape that reality again.

“Why can’t you see that you’re strong, that you can make a difference?! That you have a sharp mind and incredible abilities that can help us?!” Enjolras was out of control and everyone noticed it, but it was too late “Don’t you care about these people _at all_?!”

And then, Grantaire was visible again. His shadows drew back, his eyes a grey storm brewing and foreboding danger.

“ _How dare you?_ ” Grantaire’s voice was strong, an enormous contrast with his usual snarky remarks and sarcastic comments “Fuck you, Enjolras, I don’t deserve your shit, I _don’t_ ” he seemed to be talking half to himself and half to the glowing man in front of him.

“Why don’t you prove how wrong I am, then? Why do you keep denying what you can do, what you can _be_ , if you care at all…”

“I CARED ABOUT HER!” Grantaire shouted and the room suddenly was submerged in shadows, everyone drowning in a pitch back atmosphere.

The only light they had was coming from Enjolras, who was still glowing and faintly illuminating his surroundings.

“Grantaire, I…” he muttered, and his light started to diminish.

But Grantaire disappeared inside the darkness and Enjolras’s words died on his lips. 

* * *

Most nights before an important mission, one that was prone to risk their safety like the one they were to go through on the following night, Courfeyrac and Jehan chose to spend it together. There was an attic which you could access through a trap door on the bathroom of the west wing of the highest floor, secluded and forgotten by everyone, with a little muddy window that let the faint moonlight come through. Jehan had found it on his first year on the Institute, in his incessant search for some kind of nook, of sanctuary for himself. He had showed it to Courfeyrac on his 18th birthday, after the young man had finally confessed his feelings to him; and Jehan knew that, being someone whose mutation had developed with feelings as a key, Courfeyrac was extremely careful when completely opening his heart to someone. He treasured that like the most precious gift he had ever received inside that damn place.

Making love with Courfeyrac was intense, given the nature of his abilities. He could understand what you felt and what you wanted through a touch and show you what you made him feel with the same ease. Jehan believed that was what had given him the reputation he had among nurses. Nevertheless, it was different with Jehan, because he couldn’t control it. Courfeyrac’s hold on his ability was completely lost when they were together and everything was amplified. Jehan could feel what Courfeyrac was sensing as if he was experiencing it himself, but his own feelings were amplified as well, as if Courfeyrac’s touch was a loudspeaker that made his own sense twice as powerful. Their first time together had being embarrassingly fast, the feelings too overwhelming for both of them, but, in time, they were able to understand more about what made each other and themselves feel more intensely.

On that particular night, lying in the blankets they had gathered though their encounters there, Courfeyrac was thrusting desperately inside of Jehan, his hands moving from their grasp on their makeshift bed to Jehan’s shoulders. The younger man couldn’t see the others’ face, as he was on his knees on the bed and with his hands on the wall before them, but could feel the frenzy Courfeyrac had within him through his touch. There was a raw kind of need mixed with a strong fear of loss, the intense will to keep someone close and safe in the midst of imminent danger.

Courfeyrac’s right hand trailed down Jehan’s chest toward his neglected erection but it was trembling slightly. Jehan could feel the fear tainting his lover’s desire, his distress, and placed his hand on top of Courfeyrac’s, guiding his pace while projecting, as best as he could, the calmness he felt and the _trust_ he had in his lover.

_I’m here, I’m not leaving, I love you_ was all Jehan repeated in his mind, like a mantra, a prayer, hoping it would translate into feelings that Courfeyrac could decode.

He sensed his lover’s pace slowing, his embrace getting less desperate and more comforting, and his lips painting kisses all over Jehan’s back. There was so much love, love everywhere, coming from Courfeyrac’s touch and being projected from himself, enveloping them and creating the sanctuary that Jehan had been seeking for so long.

Courfeyrac came first, his shuddering body closing the minimal distance between them in a final thrust; and Jehan shortly after, muttering ‘ _I love you_ ’ in so many languages, dead and living, but not being able to convey its power as much as he had wanted in any of them.

They were glistening under the moonlight after that, their breathing evening out and their bodies pressed impossibly close together. Courfeyrac was the oldest one of the two and the one who had lived the longest in the Institute, Jehan was the youngest one of them all and the one that had arrived last, yet it was Courfeyrac who often cuddled on Jehan’s chest, clinging to him and not letting go. Jehan played with the other man’s curls and kissed the top of his head before asking what had been on his mind ever since Courfeyrac had desperately brought him there.

“What happened, Courf?” he asked, softly “Not that I haven’t enjoyed this with every fiber of my being, believe me, but you haven’t quite been yourself lately…” he felt Courfeyrac shiver slightly on his chest and kept on caressing his curls, reassuringly “You know you can tell me, right?”

Courfeyrac sighed and climbed up from his position to be able to look at his lover in the eyes before responding.

“Remember when we saw…when Grantaire’s friend died and the nurse…” he couldn’t finish the sentence but Jehan nodded, encouraging him to go on “when I touched her to try to calm her down, her feelings invaded me. They were so strong that I couldn’t stop them, I couldn’t channel mine through hers or stop hers from taking over me. It was a fraction of a second but…her desperation for losing the woman she loved, her despair and the empty hole that her death left on her heart was completely taking over her.” He hesitated, trying to find the words to explain himself better “Remember _Peter Pan_?”

That certainly took Jehan by surprise.

“The book?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yes, have you read it?” Courferac saw Jehan cocking an eyebrow, as if he was asking one of the silliest questions in the world “We used to read it a lot, when there was only ‘Ferre, Enjolras, Grantaire, Feuilly and I, we said we were like Lost Boys and even if Enjolras was our leader, he claimed he was more like a Wendy than a Peter himself…” they both smiled at the memory “Anyway, do you remember that when it says Tinkerbell is so small she can only hold one feeling at a time?”

“I remember” Jehan nodded.

“Sometimes, in very extreme occasions, we do to.” Courfeyrac lowered his eyes and played nervously with the blanket “It’s not a normal occurrence, we often have many emotions going through us at the same time, so many we can’t even process all of them, but there are times, extreme moments, in which something takes over us completely. There was nothing more inside her than the desperation for her lost love and her will to follow her. There was guilt and pain mixed together, yes, but there was no…no light at all, no hope. I was taken over by it for a moment, and I think a bit of it tainted me and didn’t let go. I started thinking about you and what I would do if that happened to us, if you were killed…” he started shivering again and Jehan took a hold of him, drawing his naked body closer to his.

“I didn’t want to show it to you, this feeling, because I didn’t want to contaminate you with it…” Courfeyrac talked as if he was contagious and it was the first time Jehan heard him express the true complications of his mutation, his insecurities when it came to them.

“Why don’t you try to listen to my feelings now, Courf?” Jehan whispered, holding him close.

Courfeyrac hesitated but did as Jehan asked. The intense feeling of love, trust, safety that they had shared earlier was there again, not as loudly as when they had been in the midst of their intimacy, but still there, surrounding them.

“We’ll be each other’s sanctuary, Courf, whatever happens.” Jehan’s voice was soft but confident “We’ll hold each other through this and we’ll be there for one another until death parts us. Even then, we’ll always be with one another, because I believe this kind of love…it makes people eternal.” He turned Courfeyrac’s face towards his and looked at him in the eyes “That is what immunity is about, not being bulletproof but having someone to pull you back up when you fall, to hold you through your pain, to make your life worth living.”

 

They kissed again, in their personal sanctuary, and fell asleep together until their alarm alerted them to go back to their respective rooms before the morning check. 

* * *

The morning before Gavroche’s escape, Marius and Combeferre were waiting in the gate of the courtyard in the back of the building, until two very different looking girls appeared, walking towards the gate from different directions. One was very slim, with dark olive skin and chocolate brown hair, grey eyes and a menacing gaze. The other was rather chubby, her curves gracefully hugged by a short floral dress, blonde hair flowing softly in the wind and with her pale blue eyes shining in the light of day. Marius introduced the first as Éponine, Gavroche’s sister, and the latter as Cosette, Fantine’s mysterious daughter. Combeferre, careful not to step too far from the gate and trigger any alert of some kind, introduced himself. He had been sent there as some kind of ambassador of their group, to assure Éponine that his little brother was in good hands and she could trust them. They all believed that Combeferre, with his rational mind and ability to keep calm under complicated circumstances, was the best choice to let someone know there weren’t just a mere bunch of rebellious brats playing with fire. Still, Éponine seemed less than pleased with the idea of her little brother being in the middle of danger.

“You let him do _what_?!” she was directing all her anger towards Combeferre, which happened to be extremely rude, on his opinion, given that Marius had been there as well.

“You should keep it down, we don’t want to attract attention,” Marius whispered “the security cameras can’t catch us here but patrolling guards might”

“I’m sorry” Éponine looked at Marius shyly and then turned back to Combeferre, transforming into a fury again “How on earth did you let that happen? I asked you people to keep him safe, not drag him into your attempts to act like superheroes…”

“With all due respect, we are not playing here.” Combeferre turned serious “What your brother did was dangerous, yes, I’m not denying that, but we owe him a great deal. He chose to help us and we’re extremely grateful…”

“He’s a kid, for goodness sakes!” she looked at Marius apologetically, lowering her voice again “He can’t understand the extent of the things he gets into, he’s young, he deserves a long life, not to die in captivity like…”

“I know.” Combeferre looked at her in the eyes, those mysterious gray eyes that seemed to be always defensive, as if danger had been a key part of the world she had grown up in “I promise we did everything in our hands to keep him safe and we’ll do so again tonight, while we help him and his friends out. He wanted to stay but he agreed to leave because of you and his friends. We may not have much family left outside this place but we’re each other’s family in here and Gavroche…he’s one of us now. We’ll take care of him like so, I swear.”

When Combeferre talked like that, with the confidence and maturity he had always been characterized by, nobody doubted him. This girl, though, still looked skeptical and didn’t seem to trust him an inch. He was extremely intimidated but, at the same time, felt a great respect for this girl and how strong and brave she was.

“It will be alright, Éponine,” Marius offered “besides, he helped us a great deal already, we found out very important information thanks to him.”

Éponine sighed.

“Alright, then, I guess I have no other choice but to go along with this.” she finally accepted, and Combeferre was starting to think the world outside the Institute had changed a lot if someone like Marius was such a ladies man.

“I have to thank you too, Éponine.” Cosette said “Without your brother’s help, I wouldn’t know all this about my mom and myself, I owe you both so much.” She took the girl’s hand “I promise, if there’s anything I can do to help you both, I’ll do it.” Her smile created dimples in her cheeks and Marius looked at her as if she was a Sleeping Venus, awakening right in front of him.

Éponine just nodded shortly, catching a glimpse of the flustered Marius and then fixing her gaze on the ground. Combeferre was starting to feel extremely awkward in the middle of that love triangle and decided to turn their attention to the matters at hand.

“Did you discover anything else from your mother?” he asked Cosette.

“A letter; handwritten, crumpled and slightly hard to read but…very meaningful.” Her eyes gleamed with the memory “She seemed to have passed it to my father somehow, right before he took care her treatment. She somehow knew she could trust him, said she recognized him from their youth, that she knew his sister and what he had done for her, that he was an honorable man. I didn’t even know my father had a sister.” Cosette looked deflated, she wasn’t even sure who her own father was anymore “She explained that she…she had fallen for this doctor who promised to marry her and take her away from there…and after they…” her voice faltered “after he found out that she was pregnant with me, he disappeared. She had been avoiding other doctors but asked specifically for him, I don’t know who his sister was or what relation they had, but she seemed confident he would help her. I don’t even know my father’s real name…”

“You know he cares enough to protect you, that’s more than my siblings and I can say…” Éponine muttered.

“You’re right.” Cosette turned to her “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, I swear I’m not…but these things I can do…if that’s the reason why my father is been chased, I have to do something. I don’t want him to die protecting me, it’s time I protect him instead.”

Cosette was a very sweet looking girl, with her rosy cheeks, her floral dress and her Renaissance-like curves. And, Cosette was also a fighter. Just like Éponine, she was willing to sacrifice herself for her family, for her father, and was aware of the power she had and the use she could give it. She was also intimidating, in a different way. Whereas Éponine was raw fury, passionate and wild strength, Cosette was calculating, smart and calm under pressure. Combeferre felt that, with people like them on the outside, their plans could finally work.

“We’re gonna need you three at the time we scheduled, don’t pull up until the kids get out, you must be fast and precise.” Combeferre explained “Marius won’t have to be seen, so let him drive. He’ll lead you to a safe place, you should stay there until we reorganize ourselves and decide what we’ll do. I know I don’t need to say this, but be careful.” He turned around and was about to walk towards the facilities again when he heard her call.

“Combeferre!” Éponine’s voice reached him and he turned towards her once again.

He looked at her, and behind the gate, with the fear of seeing her brother harmed in any way written all over her features, with the knowledge of the dangers that living among the Underground Force ensued, never safe, never able to choose her own path, she, on the other side of that gate, was the one who seemed captured.

“Thanks” she said, and it didn’t sound too confident, but it was sincere.

“You’re welcome, Éponine, and thank _you_ for trusting us.” he couldn’t stop smiling while he walked inside the premises again.

 

He knew Éponine was going to leave Marius and Cosette alone as soon as she could, because they only seemed to have eyes for each other, and he could imagine how much that hurt her. That made him wish he could be the one with healing powers of his own. 

* * *

Grantaire couldn’t get it out of his head. He had promised Floréal that, in case of a life threatening situation, he was going to tell Enjolras what he felt for him, but he was so _angry_. He loved the bastard with all his being but sometimes he could be such an idiot. Of course, his anger didn’t change the fact that he was helping them all with Gavroche’s escape in a few minutes’ time, but he was not talking to Enjolras until he apologized for being such an insensitive asshole.

“I hope Marius and the girls are on schedule because this needs to work perfectly” Feuilly was nervous and his frantic pacing was driving Grantaire up the wall.

“Would you just stop moving already?” he might have been too harsh on him, his anger speaking for him, but nobody commented on it.

Not even Enjolras. Great, pity, the last thing he needed or wanted. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because the kids had arrived.

The group of friends had created a path for the kids to follow that let them avoid the security cameras and, using Combeferre’s memory to know the perfect timing of the guards’ patrolling system, they had successfully instructed the three kids, Gavroche and his two friends, how to arrive to the back courtyard without being detected, where Enjolras, Jehan, Feuilly and Grantaire were waiting for them.

If they wanted to avoid drawing more attention to themselves, they would have to get the kids through the gate without Enjolras using his light to destroy it or melt it in any way. Furthermore, they needed to cross the courtyard towards the gate without either getting caught by the sensors that were set up at night, which would alert guards of their location and turn on the lights, or being seen through the many cameras in the courtyard, which they couldn’t tamper with or avoid in any way.

For this, they were separated into two groups. The plan was, as far as Grantaire was concerned, that the other group, consisting of Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet, was to stay inside the building. While Courfeyrac and Bahorel kept watch and guided Bossuet to use his ability to keep other guards from their path, Joly and Combeferre were to hide in the office also occupied by the three night guards who monitored the security cameras that led to the courtyard. Joly should hide the best way he could, to go undetected yet be able to brush a guard gently when he passed near him and make him instantly throw up or just do something medically nasty enough to catch his partners’ attention. Grantaire was confident that Joly was an expert in all things medically nasty, so he would know what to do. As the other two guards approached his partner, Combeferre should come out of his hiding spot and put his perfect memory into good use by controlling the cameras and guiding them out of the way of Grantaire’s group. It was remarkable all that Combeferre had learned when it came to the use of machinery and computers from merely watching people in the Institute do their jobs through his years inside it.

Outside the facilities and in the back courtyard, Grantaire’s group saw the cameras moving, retreating from their positions, and they took it as a signal that proved everything had gone smoothly. As soon as they saw it, Feuilly started teleporting the kids, then Grantaire and finally Enjolras, one by one, to the gate, crossing the path the sensors covered. Before Enjolras departed with Feuilly, Jehan wrote down on a piece of paper he had carried with him and transmuted a rope that would help the little kids, who lacked Gavroche’s agility, to climb the gate.

Once they were all on the other side of the sensors, Enjolras used his glowing body to help the kids see where to step on, and Grantaire shielded the highest part of the gate to prevent the electricity running on that side to hurt the children. The last one, a little boy whose name Grantaire ignored, was about to reach the top of the gate when the lights on the courtyard illuminated them with intensity. Grantaire could see the cameras pointing at them again and understood, not without fear, that his friends had been caught. Guards seemed to come from everywhere but he couldn’t turn towards them, using all the concentration he could muster on keeping the shield up for the little boy to cross over it. The boy was petrified and couldn’t move; stuck with one hand over Grantaire’s shield but the rest of his body still inside the Institute.

The guards were shouting things Grantaire couldn’t decipher, Feuilly and Enjolras were slowly walking towards them to buy Grantaire more time, but the kid was still not moving. Gavroche and the girl were calling to him when a car pulled up and two girls, a blonde and a brunette, guided the kids inside.

Seeing this, the guards took out their guns and threatened them. Grantaire turned around to see one of them face him directly and insisted he let the kid down. The brunette girl was climbing the gate now, to retrieve the kid, and Grantaire knew that, if his powers faltered, two people would die.

The guard kept shouting and then, someone else gave an order. A known voice, a strong and emotionless voice: Dr. Philippe. The only thing Grantaire heard clearly among the mess was his order: the guard had to shoot him. And then he knew, they all knew, that the order was meant to make him _choose_. Grantaire couldn’t keep a shield while using it also on himself, his powers weren’t strong enough yet. If he chose to save his own life, the brunette girl and little boy would die. Dr. Philippe wasn’t just threatening them, he was testing them too, to see the extent of their rebellious attitude, to see if they were just kids playing heroes or were actually willing to give their lives for other people’s freedom.  

Grantaire turned around and looked at the guard. He wanted to see who was going to be his executioner. He kept his shield up, while the girl reached the boy and, as she retrieved him, the guard fired.

Grantaire never felt the bullet, though, because Enjolras had jumped between him and the guard to become the shield Grantaire couldn’t be for himself. He saw it as if it was happening in slow motion: Enjolras in front of him, his back towards him, blond glowing curls losing their light slowly as the white shirt of his uniform got tainted in red, _so much red_. Red was a color that had always fit him, a forbidden color to wear. Now, it was tainting him slowly, taking over him.

Grantaire let go of the shield as soon as he heard the car’s door close and didn’t even register it driving away while he reached Enjolras's body, now lying on the ground.

“ENJOLRAS!” his voice didn’t seem his own, it felt like coming from far away.

The blond was looking at him and smiling, he was _smiling_ , that smile he used whenever he was proud of his friends. Grantaire didn’t remember if he had ever seen it directed at himself like that. He felt the tears roll down his face as he held Enjolras in his arms. There was too much blood, _so much red_.

“I know you care…” Enjolras muttered, that stupid _beautiful_ smile still on his face.

“Please, Enjolras, no, don’t leave me, _please_ ” he didn’t even process what he was saying, just let the words flow out from him like the tears that were escaping his eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, and the guards and doctors were already there, forcing Grantaire to let go of him, separating them.

He fought the guards holding him down, his hands had become red too, red with Enjolras’s blood, and he felt infected with the feeling of restlessness, the need to fight that Enjolras had always sported. He sensed the fear inside him turn into desperation and being translated to strength, fighting everyone who would keep him from finding Enjolras again, but his force wasn’t enough when a doctor approached him and pinched him with a needle .

The last thing he saw before collapsing was an unconscious Enjolras entering the Institute in a stretcher, guided by doctors and nurses and followed closely by Dr. Philippe. The last thing he thought was that he should have done as Floréal had made him promise, because he may never have the chance again. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, I struggled with this chapter. I'm struggling with this story altogether, to be honest, because some things aren't precisely as I want them to be, but I'll keep going. I wanted to point out that I decided to roll with the idea of chubby Cosette ever since I read [this post](http://softfemmecosette.tumblr.com/post/71810223091/yeah-but-chubby-cosette-tho-every-interpretation), and, as a chubby girl myself, I have to say I loved the idea of incorporating that.  
> Thanks so much for reading this, some days I feel I'm totally ruining it, but you have been super supportive so far and I really appreciate it. (｡っ◕‿◕｡)っ ♥


	5. I blossom in your arms, please don’t cut me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“That’s not really all I wanted to tell you, to be honest” Grantaire continued, fidgeting nervously with his hands._   
>  _“Oh” Enjolras signaled him to sit down and the man conveyed, but kept as far away from him as possible._   
>  _“Before Floréal…” he hesitated, he still couldn't come to terms with what had happened to his friend“she made me promise that before something dangerous happened, I’d…I would tell you how I felt…about you”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> A leader comes back with his light fading, a cynic finds his resolve and a young hero finally finds his shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone out there was eagerly waiting for this chapter to be uploaded, first of all, wow, thanks, and second of all, I apologize profusely for the huge delay. Life has been more than complicated and I wasn't able to finish writing this as well as I wanted to. I hope it doesn't disappoint too much and I can't promise when the next one will be up, but I won't leave this story unfinished, I promise.  
> The title for this chapter is from the song Last Breath by Kerli.  
> Special thanks to [Ibbyliv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibbyliv) for all the support throughout it all. I hope you like this one :)

_I’m sorry_

Enjolras’s voice resounded inside Grantaire’s head, waiting for him when he tried to sleep, lurking in every corner of his mind. He had wanted the leader to apologize, that was why he had avoided talking to him, why he had not confessed. And Enjolras _had_ apologized. It was the last thing he had done before disappearing inside the building.

At first, they had religiously monitored carts leaving the Institute, terrified by what may have happened to the missing leader. Marius, who had luckily not been seen inside Cosette’s car, was helping them as much as he could, as they were initially forbidden to see each other. Still, they were allowed to gather again a day after, sooner than any other time before, and they all feared that, if they let them be together that easily, it was because they didn't expect them to retaliate in any way. They believed that, as long as the doctors had their leader with them, they wouldn't even move. And they were right, to some extent.

It wasn’t the lack of leadership what prevented them from doing anything, they were all as essential to their cause as Enjolras was and shared the same beliefs (all but Grantaire himself, that is). Still, knowing they _had_ Enjolras in their hands, that they could do to him whatever they wanted, was reason enough not to fight them yet.

Three days of uncertainty had passed before a doctor communicated them that Enjolras was alive and recuperating. Three days that seemed centuries to Grantaire. The purgatory he had been living in, where fear won over hope with every passing second, had been unbearable; and he had asked Courfeyrac not to touch him because he knew the darkness inside him was too much for his friend to bear. Three days trying to sleep but being smothered by the echoes of the guards’ shouts, the sudden noise of the bullet cutting its way through the air and into Enjolras’s torso, his blood spreading through his shirt, the ground, Grantaire’s hands, tainting the world in red. Three days hearing Enjolras’s _I’m sorry_ whenever he closed his eyes and hoping against all hope that it hadn't been the last thing the man had ever said to Grantaire.

They didn't tell them why their friend was being retained, if he was at all conscious, if there was any permanent damage; they only told the group that their friend was alive. It was all Grantaire could hear, though, even if there had been more information alongside it. He was alive, he was still there, he hadn't left him behind. He was still going to fight, because that was what Enjolras had been born for: fighting for freedom.

The doctors let them see him through a shielding window. They wanted the group to understand how fragile their position now was: Enjolras was alive because they wanted him to be but they could change their minds if they didn't behave. So they were to ‘behave’, at least until Enjolras came back.

When Grantaire saw him through the glass, it was like staring at a fallen angel whose wings had been removed from his back. Enjolras’s natural glow was entirely gone, he was incredibly pale and his hair was lacking its characteristic shine. He was breathing steadily, his chest almost imperceptibly rising and falling, and there was no other sign of movement other than that. There were I.V.s and machines, lights and sounds, but some screens and holographic projectors were turned from them, to hide some information displayed there. They knew the extent of Combeferre’s abilities, after all, and everything he could understand of the situation with just looking at a couple of charts.

They gathered in a common room after they had seen Enjolras and, for the first time in three days, there weren't any guards around them. Considering their current state, it was easy to understand that they lacked the energy and will to do anything risky at all. As long as the doctors had Enjolras with them, they had the upper hand.

“Stop that, Grantaire” Combeferre wasn't even looking at him from where he was sitting, on the couch before him, his eyes focusing on the carpet below his feet.

“I didn't speak” the man replied.

“You don’t have to, it’s easy to read you” he lifted his gaze to him then, his chocolate brown eyes softened with fondness “You’re blaming yourself”

And Grantaire was, in a way. He wouldn't have done differently if he had to choose again, he couldn't let a little boy and an innocent young girl die to save himself; but if he had been strong enough to create two shields…then Enjolras wouldn't be…

“It’s not your fault, R, it was Enjolras’s choice…it would have been anyone’s choice” Jehan sat closer to him and his proximity alone made Grantaire feel safer “If it would have been the other way around, wouldn't you…?”

“Of course” Grantaire didn't let him finish, he didn't need to hear the rest.

And then, for the first time in three days, his friends all smiled. Just like that, they all smiled, as if Enjolras’s light had illuminated them all. But Grantaire didn't have any kind of light with him, and he completely ignored what he had done to lift their spirits like that. It surely didn't work on himself.

“What?” he asked, skeptic “What did I say?”

They all kept smiling, and Grantaire was starting to get truthfully scared. Bahorel elbowed Feuilly, who was sitting beside him, and they both laughed; Joly held Bossuet’s hand while the bald man winked at him and Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked at each other knowingly.

“I’m 100% creeped out by all of you” Grantaire stated, realizing shortly after that it was the longest sentence he had pronounced in the past three days.

“You love him” Jehan was smiling too and nudged him gently.

“That’s kind of an understatement at this point” really, Grantaire though his friends had picked up on that detail.

“We knew, but you always sort of…hide it, or push it back.” Jehan explained “You like to pretend you don’t care about it much, as if your feelings were a mere reality of the world you have to live by: the earth revolves around the sun, the morning follows the dawn and Grantaire is in love with Enjolras” Jehan’s smile grew wider and Grantaire couldn't argue that he had a contagious smile “But now you’re admitting it in front of all of us and…you considered letting Enjolras know”

Grantaire was startled at that. Either one of his friends had upgraded his mutation to ‘mind-reading’ or he was being extremely obvious.

“How would you know that?” he asked.

“We know you, R, there was something you wanted to say to him but didn't, it was bugging you the day we helped Gavroche escape. And when Enjolras…when we didn't know whether he was still alive…you seemed to have a terrible regret upon you. We don’t need to be Courfeyrac to understand how you feel…” Jehan smiled at Courfeyrac, who was sitting next to Combeferre.

“You all wish you were me, admit it” he leaned on the couch smugly.

“Yeah, right, ‘cause I’d trade my strength for your cheesy feelings thingy…” Bahorel commented and earned a pillow on his face, courtesy of Courfeyrac himself.

“Let’s not digress here, we’re not talking about Courfeyrac’s feelings,” Joly said “we’re talking about R’s” and that made them all turn to him.

As a man whose main energy was provided by darkness, Grantaire wasn't completely comfortable when he was in the spotlight. Still, this conversation seemed to make his friends feel happier, more hopeful, possibly because they were talking about Enjolras as if he was to arrive at any given second, as if they were no more than a group of young men talking about love and relationships like they would be, if their lives weren't conditioned by the deadly place they lived in. So, maybe to see his friends happier, maybe because he needed to talk things over, probably because of both, Grantaire complied.

“I made a promise…to Floréal…that I’d tell him everything before going into something dangerous” he wasn't looking at anyone in particular, but he felt Jehan’s soothing hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, R” he whispered.

“But I was _so_ pissed off. I was angry with him, with myself, with everything…and I decided not to.” he sighed “Next thing I know, he’s bleeding in my arms. I was so scared…I felt as if I was dying with him…or worse…”

“I understand” Courfeyrac offered, shivering with the memories that came into his head, memories of foreign feelings that had been tormenting him.

“It got me thinking, you know, the difference it would make if I had told him. At first, I thought it didn't matter, because he wouldn't return my feelings either way…I mean, even if he did, what would we win with that? A deeper, more painful loss when things take a wrong turn? So, when I decided not to tell him, I felt I wasn't risking anything, because I always pictured myself dying before he got to know them, taking them to the grave, so to speak. I never thought…I never dared thinking that he might be going before me…or without me…and that’s when I knew.”

“You knew what?” Feuilly inquired.

“That it wasn't something I had to do for myself, but for him.” Grantaire smiled but it didn't reach his eyes “If Enjolras leaves this world, I want him to know how much he means to me, how much he helped me, even unknowingly…the difference he made in my life.” He made a pause “Even if he doesn't return my feelings, even if they repulse him, I know he’d like to know he marked my life somehow…”

“Of course he would.” Combeferre said “And he wouldn't be repulsed, I can assure you that, even if I can’t tell you much more.” He smirked “You’ll have to ask him yourself, once he comes back.”

“Why do you think they’re keeping him?” Bahorel asked and turned to Combeferre “Could you read anything in the monitors and stuff?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, but I noticed they were hiding something from us…”

“From you, ‘Ferre,” Courfeyrac nudged him playfully “don’t be so modest”

“Anyway…” Combeferre continued, but smiled fondly at his friend “I didn't notice anything strange, but they can’t be trusted…he should be already conscious in a few hours, if he doesn't return by tomorrow morning, at most, then we should keep an eye on things”

They all agreed on that but didn't leave the room. They felt more secure among each other than they would in their own rooms or elsewhere, so they stayed, sometimes talking, sometimes silent and gaining strength from each other’s company.

* * *

Enjolras woke up in a daze of blurriness, sounds, voices and colors. He felt cold, in spite of the blanket he was covered by, and could barely move. The memories of the incident in the courtyard came to him in a daze, splashes of faces and voices, adrenaline and fear. He remembered Grantaire the most of all, because he had never seen the man as determined as he had been then. He was prepared to die in order to save a child and a young girl and his resolve had made him as strong as Enjolras had always known he was. In an instant in which everything seemed lost, in a moment in which most people would have felt hopeless, Grantaire had found purpose and a way out of his own darkness. And, in a split second, Enjolras had launched towards him, to save him from imminent death.

If Enjolras had to, he would gladly give his life for his friends, but he would be lying if he said that his feelings for Grantaire were those of a mere friendship. It didn't have to do with the man Grantaire could become - even if Enjolras knew the potential he had - but with the person he had always been. Despite his friends’ insistent comments on his obliviousness, Enjolras knew that he felt something for Grantaire, he just never considered acting upon it. Dying before being able to, at least, apologize for what he had said to him, how he had treated him that night and other nights before, when Grantaire’s cynic words got the best out of him and turn their words into poisonous arguments in which neither of them really listened anymore…that would have been unforgivable.

But, it seemed he wasn't dead, after all. Within minutes, Enjolras’s view adjusted enough for him to see his surroundings and knew he was in an ICU facility of the Institute. He had been there before, this wasn't his first jump into danger, but never for something that life threatening. Still, something felt out of place.

He couldn't ponder for much longer, though, because Dr. Philippe entered the room, strangely unaccompanied, and approached the feet of his bed.

“Welcome back, Enjolras, you've been missed.” He said, his voice as expressionless as ever.

“Not by you, I assume.” His voice was terribly hoarse and he reached the glass of water on his bedside.

He only realized while trying to grasp it how weak he actually was. It took more than one try to just sit up and holding the glass was extremely hard. His grasp was weak, his hand almost numb.

“Careful, you’re not precisely in perfect shape at the moment.” The doctor looked at his attempts of holding the glass with twisted amusement “You almost died and we worked really hard to get you back”

Enjolras was finally capable of drinking some water and felt he was regaining a little bit of his energy.

“Are you expecting me to thank you?” he asked, defiant.

Dr. Philippe smiled and Enjolras thought he preferred when he didn't show any emotion at all. He seemed like a predator that had cornered a precious prey and was just playing before eating it.

“I’m expecting you to listen, Enjolras, and as closely as your stunned senses can allow.” he dropped the smile but kept his gaze fixed on him “You seem to be under the impression that your little group holds some kind of advantage, that the things you do are worth something, that you’re accomplishing something by these little rebellious acts. What you don’t understand is that _I let you believe that_.” He started pacing around the room, pushing buttons on some monitors and scrolling some holographic screens “You see, there’s a basic mistake in what you think of us, Enjolras. You all believe that we don't treat you like human beings, and you couldn't be more mistaken. We need to treat you like human beings because it is the deepest human essence in you what makes our experiments successful: your _emotions_.” He stopped his pacing but didn't sit down, looking at Enjolras from a distance “I let you fraternize with each other, with other inmates, with the personal even; I let you attack vans and help little kids escape or even talk to them when they arrive to let them know the best ways to ‘survive’, as you kindly put it. I let you pull your revolutionary acts and even, on occasion, give you space to do things privately. I do all of that not because I’m blind to your _ingenious plans_ ” he said those words with all the sarcasm he could muster “but because I’m a scientist and without observation, I would never have a productive experiment.” He made a pause but his voice never faltered “You are a complicated generation because of your…inadequate free will, but it is that same free will what makes you an accomplished generation in mutation development. You are not precisely what we strive for, but you’re great assets, and your mental and emotional development is, sadly, a key part of it. Still, to keep you contained proves to be a bothersome chore, so you are the only generation we let develop this freely, or, rather, relatively controlled.”

Enjolras wanted nothing more than to fight every single statement that had been said, defend their rights and the ones of those who came after them and even before them. But he also understood that the more the doctor kept telling him, the more information they would have to keep their plans going. So, he swallowed those disgusting words and stopped himself from lunching forward to beat the man to death.  

“Now, your little trick three nights ago was truly helpful for my observations.” Dr. Philippe continued “As you may know, I was testing how much you would be willing to risk in order to accomplish what you think is right. The fact that you risked your own life to save Grantaire’s wasn't much of a surprise, given your nature.” He dismissed Enjolras’s act as if it had been the most normal thing to see on a daily basis, young people having to die to save their friends “Yet there was something I did not expect to see, something in _Grantaire_.”

Enjolras instinctively sat straighter, his brow furrowed and his almost powerless fists grasping the blankets. Dr. Philippe just smirked, moving closer to him.

“As I said, we do have to treat you like human beings first and foremost, we have all along. Your behavior, your emotions, your reactions are what fuel your transformations. What guides your minds is what guides your mutations and if we ignore what that is, we wouldn't be able to control them, develop them or use them.” He seemed to be expecting Enjolras to contradict him at any point, and, in a normal situation he would have, but not now, not when he had mentioned Grantaire “Your generation proved to be extremely rebellious and prone to action, except for Grantaire. He was always a gloomy kid, to say the least, and I honestly did not expect him to survive the treatment for a long period…but then you showed up. I always thought Grantaire followed you for a primal necessity, that he needed to see in you what he could not see in himself. That is why I wasn't surprised that he followed you around, even if he didn't behave like the rest of you did. I expected Grantaire to die for you, certainly, but I didn't expect him to be willing to die for a cause.”

Enjolras couldn't stop a smile from forming on his lips and the doctor noticed it instantly.

“Oh, don’t be too pleased yet, Enjolras, I’m not done.” He moved to a projector and pressed some items on the screen “The change in Grantaire made me realize the extent of your power among your friends…”

“I don’t have any power, we are equal and their respect…”

“They trust you. All of them. They look at you and see a leader. I look at you and I see a potential _example_. I realized, through Grantaire’s change, that if I want to send your friends a message, I have to do it through you. The rebellious attitude you have will finally be of help to me, you see.” He finally looked up from the screen and the turquoise light emanating from it gave his countenance a fearsome glow.

“What…what have you done to me?” Enjolras was trembling, his lack of energy still present.

“I have concealed the use of your powers from you. You cannot access them again on your own free will, you cannot control your mutation, unless I decide to let you.” He sentenced, delighted in seeing Enjolras’s face fall “If your friends decide to play with fire again, this will happen to every single one of them as well.”

Enjolras knew exactly what that would mean for his friends. It wasn't just that the use of their mutations would be of help to fight for their freedom, it also helped them survive each day. Joly’s control on his hypochondria improved as his control of his mutation did, Jehan’s ability to create and express himself in more than one voice helped him cope with his depression, Bossuet’s illusions strengthened his optimism and let him help others with them, Combeferre’s mind would collapse with all the information it held in it without his mutation to control it…everyone had developed a strong link with their mutations, even Grantaire, who seemed averse to think them as ‘abilities’, had found in his darkness a way to have a place to escape to when the world was too much for him. Enjolras himself felt helpless without his powers, but for some of his friends, they were crucial now. He wasn't going to risk that.

“What do you want us to do?” he asked, defeated yet still confident, still strong.

“Nothing, for now. Just stay quiet, for once. Tell your friends what I have told you and learn to live as the human being you insist we don’t consider you to be, a mere powerless human. Maybe this way you’ll understand the grandeur of our gift to you and why it is for the betterment of mankind.” The doctor seemed willing to keep talking, but another senior doctor interrupted, entering the room unannounced.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, sir, but Javert is here.” He said, almost breathless.

“May I ask why this is something worth interrupting me for?” he didn't turn to the man, still holding his threatening gaze on Enjolras.

“He brought Dr. Madeleine” the doctor whispered, but Enjolras could clearly hear it.

Dr. Philippe turned towards the man, signaled him to get out, and followed him towards the door. Before exiting the room, though, he looked at Enjolras, who tried to seem nonchalant, despite what had just been revealed. If Dr. Philippe didn’t mention the time they entered the archives, he probably ignored that Enjolras understood exactly why the presence of Dr. Madeleine was crucial.

“Remember, Enjolras, that we gave you these mutations for a purpose and if you don’t achieve it, you’re as disposable as any failed experiment is”

And, with that, he left the room.

* * *

Just as Marius reached Mabeuf’s house, he saw Éponine on the threshold. She looked nervous and signaled him to fasten his pace. Éponine and Gavroche had been staying with Marius for the past three days, since the escape plan, to keep them safe from their parents. Éponine had asked if they could also shelter her sister, Azelma, and she was to join them later that week. Marius wondered whether her sister was in danger and that was making Éponine look so distraught.

“Is everything alright?” Marius asked.

She took him by the arm and brought him inside.

“It’s Cosette, she’s upstairs” she frowned, worried “It seems her father has been captured”

“What?!” Marius ran up the stairs so fast he wondered how it was at all possible that he hadn't tripped on his way there, and found Cosette inside Éponine’s room.

She was sitting on the bed with a suitcase and a backpack on her feet, her eyes were rimmed with a shade of red, she had been obviously crying. When she saw him, her eyes brightened as she looked at him with so much hope, so much trust…it made Marius happy yet nervous, because he knew how limited his possibilities were to actually help her.

He sat beside her on the bed and took her hand in a soft gesture.

“They got him, those agents.” She muttered, trying to keep a steady voice “He ordered me to hide in the garden and made me promise I wouldn't come out, no matter what. He asked me, while they were forcing their way inside the house, if I had somewhere to stay and I said I did…I thought of you.” She looked at him hesitantly, as if it had been extremely rude of her to impose on him when she needed shelter to save her life and Marius nodded encouragingly “I saw how they…they beat him and captured him…the agent of the other day, the one you recognized, he called him with another name…not Madeleine or Fauchelevent but something else…and they took him away. They didn't ask about me then, maybe they didn't know I existed. I waited for them to leave, I had to wait through that all…” she trembled and Marius held her in a tight embrace “once they left, I entered the house and packed all my things and brought with me family pictures, diplomas, mementos of my life. I thought that maybe they would register the house looking for signs of Fantine’s missing baby and, if I could get rid of everything…I was in a haze, I’m not sure if I got it all…”

“It’s ok, it’s more than ok, Cosette” Marius reassured her, whispering the words in her ear and caressing her hair fondly “You’re safe now”

“But my father isn't” she stopped trembling then, she wasn't sobbing or whimpering, she talked with confidence, still perched to Marius’s side “I need to help him, I need to save my father, Marius” she sentenced.

And Marius, in that moment, felt a deep admiration for the girl beside him. Having lost his own father not too long before and having lived under the regret of not being able to help him when he had needed him, Marius could understand her resolve. Still, after everything Cosette had gone through, discovering so many dreadful things about her past and her own abilities, it was admirable to see she still had such a strong determination to keep fighting.

“We’ll help him, we won’t leave him alone, I promise.” Marius drew back from their embrace to look at her in the eyes “I can’t promise much to you, Cosette, and I certainly don’t want to lie, but I can tell you that we’ll…that _I_ will do as much as I can to help you and your father. I wasn't able to help mine in time but if I can help you…” his voice cracked and he was angry with himself, Cosette was the one who had the right to cry then, not him.

“Marius,” Cosette turned to him fully, her hands on his cheeks and forcing him to look at her, tears and all “one of the things that keep me going is to see you, after all you've been through with your dad, still trying to do the right thing. You’re brave and I really admire what you’re doing, you need to know that. I’m lucky to have you worrying about me and asking me how I feel but I want you to know I’m here for you too.”

Marius didn't like to think about himself as sentimental. He wasn't as tough as his grandfather wanted him to be but he didn't like to cry in front of people. Still, this was the first time someone had mentioned his emotional roller coaster and the first time, in a lifetime dictated by his grandfather’s wishes, that someone had called him ‘brave’. The fact that it was Cosette, someone who completely understood his journey, gave it even more meaning.

Cosette pressed her forehead over his, with her hands still on his cheeks, but didn't rub his tears away.

“You know why I've trusted you so easily, Marius Pontmercy?” she whispered “Because, I see myself in you.” Marius sobbed lightly but she didn't seem to mind “I always thought stories about finding a missing half were hopeless, that those things didn't really happen. I always thought that leading ladies trusting a guy so easily was a mistake, that they should go and do things on their own and stop looking for a prince charming that didn't really exist. But this…” she retreated just a few inches, to look at him properly in the eyes “this is different. You understand me. You've been living in a lie and found out when it was too late for your dad and I’ve been lied to all my life and found out when there’s nothing left of my mom for me to even know who she was. And now you offer me your help not only to save my dad but to save all those people in that place, people you barely know…”

“It’s the right thing to do” Marius mumbled.

“Yes, and you’d die for it.” Cosette smiled “You are truly a prince charming, Marius Pontmercy. But not for risking your life or giving me shelter…you’re a hero because you've been hit by life so hard and you still believe in goodness, you still _are_ good. You give me hope, Marius, and I wish I could be that hope for you too.”

“You are” He took her hands from his cheeks and held them tightly “You are. I believe in you.”

If this was a romantic movie, things would have flowed swiftly. Music would have played in the background while they knew exactly how to lean towards each other to share a kiss that would change their lives. But, Marius was not as much of a Prince Charming as Cosette seemed to think he was.

He leaned in and clumsily hit his forehead with Cosette’s, who let go of his hands to rub the spot that was aching and turning a bit red.

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ sorry, I just…” Marius was about to get up from the bed and as far as possible from the lovely girl he had just hit with his head but Cosette stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“It’s ok, I just…” she giggled “I wasn't expecting that.”

“I…I’m truly sorry, I didn't mean to assume…I really like you so much but I’d understand if you don’t…” he was trembling visibly and he knew it, but could do nothing to stop it.

“I really like you too, Marius, and I’d gladly kiss you, if you still want to.” Cosette moved closer to him on the edge of the bed, with an honest smile and much more confidence that Marius could ever muster, and leaned in.

Marius had never thought too much about love. His upbringing had been all about responsibilities, what he should do for his family’s name, and finding a girlfriend had never been a priority for him, given the fact that he had never found girls his age that he shared anything with, at least not in the circle his grandfather wanted him to move in. He certainly wasn't looking for long lasting love when he ran away from home to find his father or when he got a job in the same dreadful place the man had died in. Yet, love had found him. Or something that, to Marius’s young heart, felt a lot like what love was supposed to be. And, as his lips reached Cosette’s and his hands caressed her hair, Marius couldn't help but believing that there was still hope for love in that dark world.

* * *

The next night, they were all having dinner in the common room when Enjolras joined them. Grantaire was the first one to notice him but could not move, as Courfeyrac and Combeferre ran to him and helped him walk towards the sitting area they were all gathered in. He seemed too weak to walk steadily by himself, still determined but lacking so much of the strength that characterized him.

“We need to do something _fast_ ” was the first thing he said when he sat down, and they all felt their leader finally back with them.

“Enjolras, you’re not strong enough to…” Combeferre put a hand on his shoulder.

“And I won’t be, not anytime soon.” Enjolras looked at him severely and then turned to the rest of his friends, without his losing the intensity of his gaze “They've taken away my powers”

“WHAT?” Courfeyrac was shushed by the entire group, but it was not necessary.

They were alone in the room as they had been before. The doctors had lost any interest in them for the time being, maybe because they didn’t oppose a threat as they were, maybe because they were busy with something else, probably because of both reasons.

“They are preventing me from accessing my abilities, unless they approve it under controlled environments. And, of course, they threatened with doing it to you guys too” Enjolras saw Jehan and Joly cringe and sighed “Of course, we can’t let them get to that. I won’t let them.”

“Wait, Enjolras, I understand your concern, but is it really wise to try to attack them so impulsively just because of a threat?” Feuilly asked.

“That’s not the reason.” The leader lowered the tone of his voice but the severity in it was still noticeable “They have Dr. Madeleine”

Nobody said a word but they all understood the situation. No matter how much torture the former doctor could bear, for what Marius had previously told them, his daughter was not going to patiently wait for them to release him.

“There is a good side to this.” Enjolras continued and, if anybody else had spoken those words, they would have been met with stares of disbelief, but Enjolras's voice was something else entirely, it had the power of truth and hope in it, it still had the light that had been taken away from him “A doctor mentioned it to Dr. Philippe in my presence and neither seem to care that I could hear them. They may know a lot of things about us, but they ignore we know who Dr. Madeleine is and, most importantly, that we know the secret they’re looking for.” Enjolras smiled “This is the biggest advantage we've ever had and we need to act soon, before they catch up with us. This is our best chance, while their attention is elsewhere and they believe we’re at our weakest state.”

“But, Enjolras, what about _you_? What about your powers?” Jehan reached him and gently held his pale hand in his.

“That’s the least of my concerns right now” he answered, tired.

There was silence then, a silence that spoke volumes, heavy with fears for their leader’s safety and their own, for the uncertainty of their future and the ever-growing risks they were living in. But only one of them finally spoke, one that had been silent for too long.

“Enjolras, can I speak to you in private?” Grantaire hesitantly asked, and his eyes met timidly with the leader’s blue ones.

Enjolras was startled then, his cheeks slightly blushed and his eyes questioning, looking a little bit more like the man he was before the incident.

“Of course” was his answer.

“Courf and I know where you can go to talk without interruptions” Jehan offered, with an almost imperceptible wink aimed at Courfeyrac. 

* * *

The little space in the attic was faintly lit by the moonlight through the muddy window, but there were some flashlights there, probably courtesy of Courfeyrac and Jehan. It seemed cozy and awfully silent, Grantaire didn’t want to think too much about what the blankets and cushions that had been smuggled there had been used for in the past, though. Enjolras sat awkwardly on them, but Grantaire was too restless to sit down.

“Erm…ok well, first of all, I’m really sorry” Grantaire didn’t know what to do with his hands so he just played with them nervously.

“What for?” Enjolras seemed honestly puzzled, with his eyes wide open and his head slightly tilted.

“You got shot, Enjolras. Because of _me_.” He continued, looking at him with severity.

“No, I didn’t get shot because of you, Grantaire. I _chose_ to receive a bullet for you. And I would do it again, there’s nothing you should be sorry for and I definitely won’t argue about this with you. You are worth fighting for…”

“I know, I know, we all are worth fighting for to you…” Grantaire didn’t want to seem as if he was shrugging his sacrifice off, but he couldn't bear listening how Enjolras’s feelings towards him were no different than those towards everyone else; and even if that was selfish, he allowed himself to be so under those circumstances “Still, I should have used the shield on me as well…I _know_ I can do it I just…”

“The fact that you acknowledge that you can is reassuring enough for me, Grantaire. I've been waiting to hear you say that for a long time now.” Enjolras smirked.

“Oh, so you got shot as a way to give me a wake-up call?” Grantaire smiled back.

“It wasn't really planned, but I’m glad it worked that way.” Enjolras laughed and, even if there was nothing funny at all about the whole situation, Grantaire started laughing too.

It felt as if they hadn't been that free in ages, and their laughter suddenly lifted their worries, giving them room to let loose, to let it all go, at least for a few seconds of blissful and pointless joy.

“That’s not really all I wanted to tell you, to be honest” Grantaire continued, fidgeting nervously with his hands.

“Oh” Enjolras signaled him to sit down and the man conveyed, but kept as far away from him as possible.

“Before Floréal…” he hesitated, he still couldn't come to terms with what had happened to his friend “she made me promise that before something dangerous happened, I’d…I would tell you how I felt… _about you_ ”

Grantaire’s heart started racing and he could see how Enjolras’s cheeks blushed perceptibly. He hoped with all his might that it didn't turn out to be a bad sign, but he didn't hold much hope either.

“I was upset about what you had said to me and I didn’t tell you this before we…before the incident…” he continued.

“Yes, I know, I’m _so_ sorry about…” Enjolras’s hand tried to reach his but Grantaire did not let him finish.

“I know, I don’t…I don’t really want to go back to that right now because, if we do, we’ll just start arguing again and I _really_ need you to listen to me right now”

Grantaire expected some kind of protestation, he expected Enjolras to insist on how important communication was and how he wanted to _understand_ him, but it didn’t happen this time. Enjolras sat back, crossed his legs and waited patiently for Grantaire to continue. The man took a deep breath and talked.

“I always thought it wasn't going to make any difference if I told you this, that it wouldn't change anything and, even if it did, nothing good was going to come from it. But, after seeing you bleed out in my arms, I decided I was being an idiot. Even if you don’t respond, even if you want to pretend this never happened, I really need you to know how much you mean to me, Enjolras, how being beside you makes me feel like a _real_   _human_ again and…and how much I love you.” He looked at the blonde then and immediately itched for a way to capture what he saw, so it could stay with him forever.

Enjolras looked startled, his clear blue eyes open wide and shining, not with his usual light but with something else, something _new_. His cheeks were blushing and they were quite a contrast upon the pale skin he sported ever since he had been released from intensive care. His chapped lips were slightly parted in a gesture of honest surprise but nothing akin to disgust. He didn’t glow, he couldn't, not without his powers, but he looked more alive than ever.

“I…you’re…you can ignore it if you want, I mean, I don’t expect you to tell me anything but…I just want to let you know that, if we all die here and you are unable to change the world…at least you changed mine.”

And then, something extraordinary happened. A single tear escaped from Enjolras’s right eye, running down toward his blushed cheek and followed by others. He didn’t sob, he didn’t move, it was like watching a beautiful statue of some deity come to life and shed tears for a mortal. Grantaire wasn't sure what to say and his first instinct was to retreat from him, as if his sole presence was making Enjolras cry, but the man grabbed his wrist and kept him in place.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out” he smiled, a smile that, with his tears, looked as out of place as the sun in the middle of a storm “I didn’t want to cry it just…it happened” his hand wasn't losing its grip on Grantaire’s wrist “It would be more than enough, you know, to die having changed your life.”

“But please _don’t_ , or at least, let me go with you” Grantaire found his resolve “Let me be there for you, beside you, and share your fate. That’s all I ask, all I can give you in return.”

“In return for what?” Enjolras asked, moving closer.

“For giving me my humanity back.” Grantaire smiled softly and the smile he got in return was a million times bigger.

Enjolras’s hand moved from Grantaire’s wrist to his cheek, caressing it fondly. His face was suddenly close, too close, and his proximity was scary but it felt right. Since his powers weren't working, the strange electrical pulse that usually made them retreat from each other was not present, and Enjolras’s heat was just his own human one.

“I've been trying to ignore my feelings for you, Grantaire” he confessed “because I thought they would push me back, that they’d stop me from doing the things I have to do in order to assure our freedom. But I was wrong.” Enjolras’s free hand traveled to Grantaire’s hair and played with his curls fondly, as they had done before, in a less intimate context “When I saw the determination in your eyes and I understood you were going to sacrifice yourself, I knew I had to become the shield you couldn’t be for yourself, not because it was the right thing to do but because my feelings for you give me strength to push my limits. What I feel for you isn’t weakening, it makes me stronger. And there’s nothing I would like more than to have you by my side.”

Enjolras closed their distance in a swift movement, his chapped lips over Grantaire’s cold ones, and cupped his face with his hands. Grantaire’s surprise didn’t prevent him from moving his own hands to Enjolras’s waist shortly after, as he pulled him closer. The blonde’s arms moved to Grantaire’s neck as their kiss deepened, and Grantaire’s right hand found its way to Enjolras’s golden curls. Enjolras's lips parted slightly and he felt Grantaire's tongue caressing them, causing a soft moan to escape the blonde's mouth. The sound surprised Grantaire enough to make him pull back, but Enjolras brought their faces closer again, as demanding as he could be with his words but with a gentleness that Grantaire was starting to learn more about.

“Please, stay with me tonight” Enjolras whispered when their lips barely parted, still close enough for Grantaire to feel the words in his own.

“You mean…?” he managed to ask.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean” Enjolras’s lips found their place over his as they laid their bodies over the blankets. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me apologize for the cheesy romantic feels this chapter has. I really didn't want to fluff it all up but right now I'm in serious need of fluff, so I guess it showed. I hope it doesn't bother too much story-wise, I don't want to lose its balance. 
> 
> Again, I'm sorry for the delay, for the disappointment (if any) and for the cheesy feels. Comments are more than welcome and, again, thanks a lot for reading, it means the world to me right now.


	6. Holding hands with dark light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What’s your point? Yes, this electricity thing we were feeling is more dangerous than we thought, so what? You think it changes things?” he was being harsher than he should have been, but he was trying to avoid the confrontation he knew that was ahead._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“Grantaire, it changes everything. This is what I've always wanted, what I've always envied of you.” Enjolras never once lost his confidence or his smile, and Grantaire hated it and loved it at the same time, because it was disarming and convincing and he did not want to allow himself the faintest hint of hope “I was so focused on the fact that you had what I lacked of, that you could be a shield while all I could do was to become an attacking force, that I never thought how maybe instead of having what you had I should have asked you for your help.” His smile grew wider and the sparks of light on his hair looked like a halo from other world, far away from those grey walls surrounding them “I don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be alone. We can do this together.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will apologize for being terribly late with this chapter in the end notes as well and clarify all my problems with this one, but I'll just say, for now, that I also apologize for all the probably disgustingly cheesy feels here and the unashamed use of many brick references. This was always meant to be some sort of transition chapter for emotional development, so that's what I tried. The title for this chapter is from the song "Dark Light" by HIM and the quote is from the brick because of course (Enjolras's speech in "The Horizon Which One Beholds from the Summit of a Barricade", which is one of my favorite moments in literary history, I swear). Also, I'll warn you there's a not-too-explicit-but-still-there smut scene here, so now you know.

_“Here misery meets the ideal. The day embraces the night, and says to it: `I am about to die, and thou shalt be born again with me.'”_

 

In that moment, there was nothing Grantaire wanted less than to separate himself from Enjolras. Not when the man’s hands were shyly exploring the skin underneath his uniform shirt, when his lips were tangled with Grantaire’s in an uncoordinated but passionate dance, when Enjolras’s back felt so soft once the other man’s hands crept underneath his uniform. Grantaire wanted more, not less, and Enjolras wanted it too. He could tell by the caresses on his skin that got more confident and purposeful, by the feeling of his legs intertwining with his own, by the soft moan that escaped Enjolras’s mouth when Grantaire bit his lower lip…

But Grantaire had to do what he wanted less. He removed his colder-by-the-second hands from Enjolras’s body and moved back, looking at the other man and trying not to get distracted by what he saw.

“Wait, we can’t…” Grantaire sighed “We need to talk this through, we have to…”

Enjolras sat straighter, taking Grantaire’s cold hand in his.

“Of course, I’m sorry if I pushed you…” he began, but Grantaire shook his head.

“No, don’t apologize, I just…I want us to decide this properly. I mean, not that I hadn’t have casual sex with people in here before but you…you’re _you_.” He cursed himself silently for his lack of eloquence. 

“I…I haven’t” Enjolras’s hand moved to his side, where he started playing absentmindedly with the blanket “I’ve never done it before”

“I know” Grantaire said a little too quickly and Enjolras turned to him, his face turning red “I mean, we all assumed you were too busy with other things to bother yourself with casual sex”

“That’s not the reason” Enjolras sentenced, his brows furrowed and his glare defiant “I felt it had to be meaningful. If I let it happen with anyone just because we were trapped here, just because they intend us to stay in here, it would have been like accepting defeat. If I didn’t do it with someone I loved and trusted enough, it would have been as if I was saying ‘I accept I will never have a normal life, a life built in love and trust, and I will conform myself with whatever else’” his expression softened “Then I realized there _was_ someone I loved and trusted and I wanted to share it with him, but I was almost sure he didn’t feel the same way…which is such a human situation to be in, it makes me feel free. My feelings for you are mine and mine alone and _they_ didn’t have anything to do with them.”

Grantaire’s brain short-circuited. He knew he was staring and his mouth was agape, but was not able to find a way to respond to Enjolras’s trust.

“I don’t want to do this because it might be our only chance, Grantaire” he said, uncharacteristically softly “I want to do this because I want to be with you, share it with you, because I trust you”

Grantaire sighed. He was happy, ecstatic really, that Enjolras would trust him enough to choose to be with him like that but, at the same time, it was a huge responsibility. He wanted to make Enjolras feel safe, he wanted to be what he had always imagined a proper first time would be like, outside those oppressing walls and constant vigilance. The one he never had.

“You’re thinking” Enjolras bit his lower lip, concerned “tell me what you’re thinking” he opened his eyes widely in surprise “Do you not want this, R? Because I would understand”

“No, it’s not me…I’d love to…I’m honored that you would let me be your first but, Enjolras, you deserve better than this” he frowned “Better than crumpled sheets in a secluded corner, hiding from people who would torture us if they don’t like what we do, rushing not to be discovered…” he sighed “you deserve peace, good memories and _freedom_ ”

Enjolras smiled. Maybe he didn’t have his powers anymore, but his smile was still enough to illuminate a room.

“I told you, Grantaire, this is _my choice_. This secluded corner, these crumpled sheets, this hiding spot, _this_ is what I want. I want _you_. This is freedom for me, Grantaire. And even if we couldn’t escape, which we will, but even if we didn’t, at least I would have been free, in here, with you.” He took Grantaire’s hand in his “I don’t want to do this as a way of saying this could be our last time together. Even if it was, I wouldn’t want to see it like that. I want this to be what it is: a moment just for the two of us _chosen_ by the two of us. Whatever happens, this will always stay with me. And in here, _we’re free_.”

Grantaire held Enjolras’s hand tightly, firmly. They looked into each other’s eyes and stayed like that for an amount of time neither of them would have been able to determine later, when they remembered that very moment with fondness. Whatever words could not convey, their eyes did.

_I’m scared_

_Don’t be_

_I’ll disappoint you_

_You’d never_

_I love you_

_I love you too_

They didn’t know who made the first move but before they knew it, they were clashing onto each other once again, without the desperation and violence they showed before, as if they had finally started believing that they had all the time in the world for themselves.

* * *

The rest of the group was in the storage room they had been gathered in not that long before, even if it seemed an eternity had passed since then. Jehan was the only one missing, because he wanted to take a book from the library that Mabouf kept secretly unlocked for him every night. When he arrived with his friends, though, it was not a book what he had in his hands.

“He left a note for us” he said, sitting beside Courfeyrac and seeking his warmth “He said someone was going to contact us tonight, one of us should wait outside the building for them”

“I’ll do it” Combeferre stood up calmly, desperately seeking some fresh air.

“Be careful, ‘Ferre” Courfeyrac added, voicing all of their thoughts.

“I will” his smile was almost unnoticeable, but Courfeyrac returned it with more energy, always the driving force of their group in moments of need.

Silence reigned for a while after Combeferre had left, the stress of the past few days getting to them with full force. Minutes went by in comfortable silence, their companionship being enough to repair their damaged conviction.  

“Can I ask you guys something?” Jehan almost whispered “What do you imagine yourselves doing if you weren't here?”

“I know what I wouldn't be doing,” Bahorel commented, bouncing a little rubber ball on the wall for Feuilly, sitting beside him on the floor, to catch “following my father’s footsteps”

“Your dad the lawyer?” Feuilly tried to stop himself from smiling knowingly, already aware that talking about lawyers and his family made Bahorel want to punch a wall.

“My dad the _lawyer_ ” he wasn't looking at anyone but the wall where he was directing the little ball, increasing his force on it “They sold me out for some money, because I was 15 and not at all inclined to follow my family’s path” he sighed “If that is the kind of ‘justice’ that lawyers in this country fight for, I don’t want to have anything to do with it”

The ball bounced with too much force and collided directly with Feuilly’s forehead. The red-haired man cursed with ferocity and put his hand on the impacted area, which was swelling considerably fast.

“You asshole!” he couldn't really shout, since they were trying not to be localized, but he glared angrily at Bahorel to convey all his fury.

“Come here, let me see” Bahorel took Feuilly’s face between his big hands and examined the wound, with a look of deep concern, too much to be anything but ironic “Well, look at it this way,” a mischievous grin took over his features “now you match, being red all over”

Feuilly blushed, only strengthening Bahorel’s point, while their friends laughed with the exchange.

“Don’t be mad, Little Red,” the broader man put an arm around him and ruffled his hair affectionately “what would _you_ do if you could get out of here?”

“See the world” Feuilly said, still frowning but with a gleam in his eyes “I would use my powers to see the world and learn from other places, see how they live, what they do, what their cultures are like, what they believe in…there’s so much out there while we’re caught in here…”

The silence that followed was not one of dismissal, but one of understanding. Sometimes, silence can also be a way of agreeing, more powerful than words, if it is used among people who know each other as much as they know themselves.

“I would go to a good bar and order some decent food, that's the first thing I'd do” Joly was who ended the silence and his determination was so noticeable that it took everyone by surprise “I’d order oysters”

Bossuet, whose lap Joly was sitting on, pulled him closer and eyed him curiously.

“You sure of that, love? You've never had oysters before…” Joly was not known for liking to risk himself with food; he was extremely cautious of what he ate and how he did it, he has a schedule and some immovable rules, because he believed that his eating habits had a certain impact in his digestion and, consequently, led him to sickness. 

“I’d take my chances. It would be my way to accept uncertainty and let some control go, once we’re free” and he didn’t say ‘if’, not anymore.

“I’d go with you, just in case you need my help or I need yours” Bossuet laughed “Knowing my luck, who knows what I’d encounter once I step out of this place”

“We’ll take care of each other” Joly turned to him and smiled brightly, so brightly that Bossuet had no other choice but to kiss his nose tenderly.

“What about you, Courf?” Bahorel asked, throwing him the little rubber ball.

Courfeyrac caught the toy with one hand while he played with Jehan’s hair with the other.

“I want to meet new people.” he admitted, with a genuine smile “I want to know about them and what their lives are like, but I also want to tell them our story. I want to join them, their stories with ours, because maybe people on the outside aren’t as different from us, maybe we’re all trapped somehow, and getting together and learning from each other would help us all.” he laughed, but it was of a tired kind, almost unnoticeable compared to what Courfeyrac’s true laughter sounded like “But I’m not that good with words, not like Enjolras or R…or you” he turned to Jehan, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

“Storytelling isn’t just about words,” Jehan leaned closer to him and caressed his cheek softly “it’s about understanding people and letting them see your story through your eyes.” He rested his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder “And you’re really great at that, if I dare say so myself.” 

“Just one thing,” Bahorel directed him a menacing glare “if you make me look anything less than awesome when you tell our story, I will make sure you don't tell it anymore”

“He’s supposed to be honest, Bahorel, he can’t be narrating lies to people” Feuilly joked and quickly teleported out of the man’s way, to avoid the retaliation.

“How about you, Jehan?” Courfeyrac asked softly in his ear.

“I just want to lie on grass, _real_ grass, in one of those fields that seem to have no end, and look at the sky, the clouds passing by, infinitely moving above us.” he sighed “Or maybe float in a tranquil lake or the sea on a calm day, looking at the immensity of the world. I want to speak languages and write in them, discover new meanings for words I’ve always known but never was inspired enough to explore. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and walk under the stars, sit somewhere and wait for dawn. The possibilities seem endless when you’re free to choose, to _live_ ”

Courfeyrac rubbed his nose on Jehan’s cheek tenderly, transmitting how he would like to share that with him, at least as much as Jehan would allow him to. They stayed like that, together, imagining lives they had never lived and those they dreamed they could experience, if their hopes became a reality.  

* * *

Their touches were tentative and careful. They were both shaking, with a blend of excitement and hesitation. Enjolras was scared, terrified to let himself go, he wanted to be with Grantaire in every way possible, he trusted the other man with his life, but that life had been about control: control over his powers, control over his temper, control over voicing his opinion in fear of getting his friends hurt. Letting go of that control was terrifying, but he also knew he needed it.

Grantaire had never been nervous about sex before. It had always been a way of letting his head drift off and getting lost in someone else’s embrace. Contrary to Enjolras, because it couldn’t be any other way, the control Enjolras felt lost without was the same Grantaire was willing to lose at every given chance. Enjolras was scared without control and Grantaire was afraid if he had to be constrained. But what he feared, more than anything, was hurting the people he loved. He always chose not to try, because if he didn’t promise he wouldn’t disappoint.  He didn’t want to see his friends suffering because of him, because of his inability to be better, and the fact that Enjolras trusted him with this was just as if he trusted him in battle, with his own life.

“Your hesitation makes me feel safer,” Enjolras whispered between tentative kisses in foreign skin “we are just the same”

He hadn’t wanted to admit it but he had been nervous for being so inexperienced whereas Grantaire was not. It seemed extremely irrelevant to a life in the verge of chaos that he would be worried for such trivial matters. But those worries, which were trivial for a life like his but were the only ones other people had outside oppression, grounded him and reminded him that he was in fact a human being.

Courfeyrac and Jehan, when being in that secret place themselves, had irradiated passion and hunger for each other. Joly and Bossuet, having found another place for themselves, had also connected with great force and sensuality. This was not like those times. Enjolras and Grantaire, in that very moment, were not like that. This was clumsy, nervous, messy; their hands were careful yet seemed to ask for permission every step of the way. Each discarded garment was pushed aside gently, and eyes were seeking each other every time afterwards, to find acceptance, confidence, to guarantee that yes, they still wanted it and yes, they were beautiful as they were and yes, they were allowed to be scared but they didn’t have to.

It was going to be fast and Grantaire knew it, Enjolras expected it, so they took their time learning each other. The sheets were not as comfortable to lie down as a mattress would have been, and with Grantaire’s skin growing colder as his emotions intensified, it was chillier than they would have liked.

“I’m sorry” he apologized, as Enjolras’s hand traveled from his shoulder to his hand, caressing his arm tenderly.

“Don’t, I’m sure I’d be burning up by now if my powers were accessible to me” he knew that he would have been just as apologetic if the situation had been different.

Grantaire smiled and they kissed, just as clumsily. He would have joked that Enjolras’s heat would have come in handy, but he was sure that, if his powers would have been accessible to him then, they would have been stopped by that strange tingling sensation, like electricity charging, that appeared when their powers collided.

They took their time, kissing the newly exposed skin, caressing gently, seeking each other’s lips for tentative kisses, whispering almost imperceptible words of encouragement and appreciation. Grantaire was the first one to dare move his hand higher in Enjolras’s inner thigh, always looking directly in his eyes, like expecting him to ask him to stop at any given moment.

Enjolras, though, felt those eyes on him and blushed, afraid to convey how much he wanted Grantaire to touch him. A soft sound, not quite a moan but definitely not a sign of rejection, escaped his lips, and once Grantaire’s hand found its place where it was meant to, Enjolras dared to take Grantaire the same way.

They touched each other just as they wanted to be touched themselves; they became more coordinated in their nervousness, not in any kind of ideal pace and not really seeking their own pleasure but the other’s. Looking into each other’s eyes was the scariest part of all, because there was always that fear of seeing judgment or disappointment, but they only found the same tenderness they felt for the other. It was like a reflected image: both of them lying on their sides, with a hand pleasuring each other and another on each other’s hair, holding on for strength but also providing that support for the other. But, at the same time, it was quite a contrast, Grantaire’s darker skin, his black hair and his hard edges and Enjolras’s fair skin, blonde curls and soft curves.

It was as fast as they had expected, but they were not disappointed. They weren’t doing it for an erotic quest for their own pleasure or for the egotistical need to prove the other how much they could make them feel. It was about them, being together, being free, being themselves for each other. Their rhythm wasn't as synchronized as it would have been with more experience with each other and Enjolras was the first one to reach his climax. The image was something Grantaire would remember with fondness, a memory of a time where the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders could spread the wings he was born to fly with. Grantaire’s arrived not long after, and it was Enjolras’s turn to savor the moment.  As Grantaire felt his release, Enjolras’s other hand traveled to his face, his cheek, and pressed his forehead on his, feeling Grantaire’s freedom as if it was his own, as if he could share it with him.

And in that moment of pure emotion, in the afterglow where raw feelings turned into peaceful bliss, when Enjolras was able to see how he had set Grantaire free just as the man had done for him, his hand, the one still over Grantaire’s cheek, became warm again.

He didn’t notice it at first, and neither did Grantaire, who opened his eyes and closed the distance between them to give him a lazy, messy kiss. The hand on Grantaire’s cheek met the one the man had on Enjolras’s hair, and as they held them together and moved them aside, the electricity, the clash between Enjolras’s heat and Grantaire’s cold shadows, came back with full force.

From their joined hands, a grey luminescence appeared, and as they noticed it, the energy got loose, leaving their hands and clashing with the tiny and dirty window above them and in the opposite wall. 

* * *

Combeferre liked the sky. It had always been his favorite thing to look at. When you were caught between four walls, the spaces without roof were the only ones where you could actually witness that there was something out there, a world without barriers. _Hope_. The sky meant hope for Combeferre. The sky and the pages of books he could find, information and words from others who had witnessed freedom of the mind, of ideas. Learning was like flying, Combeferre always thought, reaching higher over those gates and glimpsing another place where there were no walls. So, instead of being with his friends in a secluded corner of the Institute, Combeferre was the one who volunteered to avoid the cameras and sit outside, waiting for the messenger the note said would visit them.

He rarely looked elsewhere when the sky was as bright as it was that night, mesmerized by its immensity and lost in his own thoughts, but this time he had a mission to take care of. He had made up his mind that it was going to be Gavroche the one visiting, since he was swift and small and knew the place already; but he was surprised by the sight of Éponine looking around from a tree across the street.

He stood up, advanced into the light and looked at her. He had memorized the camera routine and his powers were ideal for keeping all that information and updating it when necessary. Still, it could be too much at times, and there were many occasions when all he wanted was to set his brain in a hibernation mode, in which he could just untie himself from all those things going through his mind. Sometimes, being alone with his thoughts was exactly what he did not want to do, and he thanked Éponine’s presence that night.

“I was expecting your brother” he commented as she approached to the gate, as swiftly as her brother would have.

“I wouldn't let him near this place again if I can help it” she frowned “Besides, I needed some fresh air”

“I can relate to that” Combeferre smiled tiredly and felt her gaze finally setting on him and studying him more closely.

“Marius told me some of the things you guys have been through in the past few days,” her eyes softened and Combeferre could feel how she was partially letting down her guard for him.

He had never felt so grateful.

“It was…difficult…” she threw him a skeptic expression, regarding him with a raised eyebrow, and he sighed in defeat; if she was going to let her guard down, at least partially, then he had to repay her with honesty “I haven’t been that scared in my life. I thought one of my best friends was gone, I just…I felt so powerless. We have all these abilities that should make us stronger but when they are able to hurt our friends so easily, no power is able to help.”

Éponine nodded lightly, almost imperceptibly so, and her expression turned somber. The world that girl knew was probably just as terrible as the one Combeferre had been living in.

“Ever since Gav came back, he hasn't stopped talking about you lot.” she smiled, her eyes fixed on the floor below her feet “He wants to fight with you, he would have stayed in there with you, and that’s _something_ ” she said the word in awe, as if it was the most meaningful compliment in the world “The families you choose for yourself can be as strong, maybe sometimes even stronger, than the one you’re linked to through blood” her eyes traveled to his and, for a brief moment, he could see her with her guard completely down, letting him in “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise and protect them with your life, because they are your family.”

“I will.” Combeferre nodded courtly “What about you? Why were you in need of fresh air?”

And just like that, with only one question, Éponine’s guard came back up to shield her feelings from the world around her.

“It was a bit crowded, with her there” she settled on saying, as if it had no importance, even if it was clear how much she cared.

“Did you tell her? How you feel about him?” Combeferre offered “I think she’d understand…”

“No.” her eyes were sharp, dangerous “Just let them. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” Combeferre itched to touch her hand, to show her the gentleness he thought she deserved, so he used his voice instead, as soothing as he could be.

“To be the secondary character in everyone else’s story” her voice was deflated, like surrendering to a life she was tired of fighting against.

“I know what you mean.” he smiled, kindly “But I think sometimes that’s a matter of perspective.” his eyes and hers met and it was almost intoxicating, how you could drown in someone else’s eyes like that “There are moments in which we may lose sight of things that are right in front of our eyes and which would change our perception of the world if we paid enough attention”

Her smile was genuine, and this time it was all for him.

“You’re extremely calm and reasonable for someone living inside that hell hole.” she offered, playfully.

“Someone has to be.” he smiled too, and it felt as if they were sharing something more meaningful than a simple exchange of words.

“Here, this is from him, it’s about her dad” she carefully handed him a piece of paper through the gate “Get rid of it after you read it, you know the drill”

“I will, thanks” he took the crumpled paper as carefully as he was capable of.

“I’ll see you, Combeferre” her blushed cheeks were almost lost in the dark of the night.

“See you, Éponine” he returned, and it was not just a promise, it was a wish.

* * *

Enjolras and Grantaire looked at each other in awe and then at their joined hands, which were still clasped together. Enjolras was the first one to let go, staring at his hand with a startled expression, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“It’s back” he whispered, already sitting but still staring at his hand as it was not his own.

“What?” Grantaire sat up as well, retrieving his uniform shirt, his insecurities coming back after such a blissful moment.

“My powers, I can use them” he looked up at Grantaire, his eyes gleaming in the shadows of the small room and his skin starting to regain the golden glow that characterized him “We unlocked them. _Together_ ”

It was a surreal situation for Grantaire, to say the least: the naked man, glowing in all his former glory, right before his eyes and smiling at him as if Grantaire had been some sort of key.

“No, I didn’t…I wouldn’t be able to…” He shoved on his shirt, hesitating, almost shaking.

“R, listen to me” Enjolras reached him, setting his hands softly over Grantaire’s shoulders, and his heat was there, warming him through his uniform “Something just happened here, something extraordinary. This is the best thing that could have happened to us all”

Grantaire sighed, understanding their moment of peace was definitely over.

“Enjolras, I don’t know what I did…”

“Neither do I, but we did something.” he smiled again “Together. I’m absolutely certain”

“Why are you so sure?” Grantaire didn’t dare look at the glowing man in the eyes.

“Because Dr. Philippe told me that our powers are controlled by our emotions, what makes us _human_ is the key of what makes us different from them.” He spoke with his characteristic conviction but as if it was ignited by a new rush of hope “I think our powers are connected, because of who we are. Our differences and our similarities make them complementary to each other, like two sides of a coin. We just found what keeps both sides together.”

“Which is what?” Grantaire looked up again, not less skeptical.

“Trust”

There was silence, and Grantaire could sense that Enjolras was waiting for him to be convinced. He was once again going to disappoint him.

“What’s your point? Yes, this electricity thing we were feeling is more dangerous than we thought, so what? You think it changes things?” he was being harsher than he should have been, but he was trying to avoid the confrontation he knew that was ahead.

“Grantaire, it changes _everything_. This is what I've always wanted, what I've always envied of you.” Enjolras never once lost his confidence or his smile, and Grantaire hated it and loved it at the same time, because it was disarming and convincing and he did not want to allow himself the faintest hint of hope “I was so focused on the fact that you had what I lacked of, that you could be a shield while all I could do was to become an attacking force, that I never thought how maybe instead of having what you had I should have _asked you for your help_.” His smile grew wider and the sparks of light on his hair looked like a halo from other world, far away from those grey walls surrounding them “I don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be alone. We can do this _together_.”

And Grantaire wanted to tell him how impossible it was. He wanted to explain, to _scream_ , how everything he was saying was so disgustingly optimistic and, more than anything, he wanted to make Enjolras understand that he couldn't trust Grantaire. But he also had one certainty, one he had come to when he thought Enjolras was dead or about to die: he wanted to follow him. He wanted to share his fate, to face whatever they had to face, but do it _together_. There was no such thing as a glorious death for Grantaire, like those heroes in the epic tales of ancient warriors he loved reading when he could find them, forgotten in a secluded corner of the library. But if he was to leave that world after all, he would gladly choose to be holding Enjolras’s hand while doing so.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, with such hesitation it wouldn't have been heard in a more crowded room.

“I've been trying to use my power and channel it, making it move from one point to another using a link, something physical that communicates the extremes. But the energy is too strong to contain, and making it smaller enough not to destroy the channeling element just decreases its energy too much to use it once it gets to the end. With your shield, though…”

“You want me to contain your energy…and transport it?” Grantaire was genuinely curious then.

“Yes, I think, in theory, you’d be able to help me do that. Once it reaches its destination, you’d set it free and I’d use it to create the damage I’m expecting to make” Enjolras was serious, frowning, but the hope was still evident in his eyes.

“Damage? You want to destroy something…?”

Grantaire wouldn't have been able to explain how he knew; maybe it was the years living together, maybe it had to do with his feelings for the man, but he just looked at Enjolras, who was staring at him openly, and was able to follow his train of thought. That train was definitely destined to derail.

“You want to explode the central computer” he sentenced, and it was not a question “You want us to shut them down”

Talking about Enjolras’s smile, as if it was just one, was a mistake. He didn’t have one smile, he had plenty. Grantaire had seen them all, or so he had thought, until he witnessed how a mischievous and extremely dangerous grin took over Enjolras’s features. He looked like an avenging angel ready to strike.

“No, Enjolras, that’s insane,” Grantaire shook his head energetically, as if the violence of the gesture would prove the man in front of him how wrong he was “I mean, yeah, we could open the gates and we’ll be untraceable for what? 20 minutes? Less? Enough for them to get a generator working?” Enjolras still didn’t speak, he just stared at Grantaire while he tried with all his might to explain the million things that could go wrong with that plan “They’ll still have their guns, maybe not the electrical ones but they’ll have other weapons and they’ll come for us with everything they've got. They’ll see us _dead_ before they see us _free_.”

He was trembling visibly; his body itched with a need to disappear, to escape before he got to hear again how useless he was, how his disbelief hurt everyone, how much Enjolras hated…

“I know” but the other man took his hand and clasped it gently, his warmth spreading and his light illuminating them both “I know, I’m not overlooking that. This would be planned and we all have to talk it through, all of us are keys in this and all of our abilities would take part. But only if we all choose so.” He moved closer and took Grantaire’s face between his hands, looking at him in the eyes “Listen to me, Grantaire, I won’t ask this of you. This will be your choice, as much as everyone else’s. I won’t take advantage of your feelings for me and I won’t ask you to do this for me. If you choose to follow me, I’ll accept you and if you choose not to, I’ll still accept you and love you as much as I do now. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me a thing, because you _don’t_.”

“But what will you do without me? If this is something we can’t do by ourselves…”

“I’ll find another way, another time. I’d rather let this pass and wait another year to be free than make you do something you don’t want to do, especially if I’ll be putting your life in danger.” He moved his hands back to Grantaire’s and clasped them firmly again “I will never give up, I will never stop fighting, I will never stop believing in freedom; but I won’t risk the life of anyone who won’t follow us on their own terms, by their own reasons. This is a choice, _your choice_ , Grantaire, not mine.”

All those thoughts that were making Grantaire want to escape, that were forcing him to fear letting Enjolras down, all of them disappeared, vanishing into thin air. For once, he was content with his proximity to reality. He had always looked for ways to drift from it, to hide inside his shadows and never come out; but Enjolras’s light hadn't guided him out, they had sneaked in and illuminated his hiding spot from the inside out. He sighed.

“There is a high chance that we’ll fail miserably and we won’t get it as easy this time around. We also don’t know how many people would willingly follow us out of here, because even if this is a prison, it’s also what they see as secure. Out there, who knows what kind of stuff awaits, and not everyone will be as happy to leave their cells for whatever life they had before this. No one knows better than we do what a shitty past can do to a person.” Grantaire and Enjolras had both been abandoned there by their parents, in very different situations but being just as neglected and dismissed by those who should have loved them “So don’t count on them all being happy for this, don’t expect them all to be grateful.” He waited for Enjolras to retort, arguing that the people would come and they would understand, but he didn’t, he just waited for Grantaire to continue, ready for whichever answer he may give “I may not believe in them, I may not think the world out there could be as grand as you think, but I do trust you. I do believe in you. I choose you, Enjolras.”

The kiss Enjolras gave him was honest and filled with all the hope Grantaire himself didn’t have. Despite the nakedness, the warmth and the kiss, which lasted what felt like a lifetime, there wasn't lust or eroticism, just trust, care and love. They had to return to their rooms soon, they wouldn't be able to spend the night and sleep in each other’s embrace, but the freedom they found that night was never going to leave their hearts, not even in their darkest moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SO SO sorry for being late. This chapter was one of the most difficult things I had to write, there were many mixed emotions in this, many anxieties floating around here, and it was not easy to face the blank page and put some of these things out there. I'm sure that, if any of you wondered what the E/R smut scene was going to be like when I pointed it out before, you were probably expecting something completely different from this, because when I started this fic I knew I was going to get to this point and I was also expecting something different, but I chose to be honest and write what I felt was right. I felt that writing an extremely explicit sex scene would maybe satisfy a lot of readers, but it was not only impossible for me at this moment but also would feel incredibly out of place with them being in the situation they're in. You're still welcome to comment and tell me I suck at writing smut, because you'd be right! Anyway, I'm sorry if this was disappointing in any way, but I went with my instincts. This is, as usual, un-beta'ed, so all mistakes are my own. I'm not sure when I'll update again, I don't want to promise anything (look how this turned out), but I think the most complicated part to write for me is over, I don't know. Thanks so SO much for reading if you have.
> 
> And, on a final note: 
> 
> *I've made a [photoset on tumblr](http://starberry-cupcake.tumblr.com/post/87050513835/a-group-of-young-men-who-have-grown-up-inside-an) to illustrate this fic back when it was mutant les amis week, if you wanna check it out
> 
> *ART WAS MADE OUT OF THIS FIC CAN YOU BELIEVE IT BECAUSE I CAN'T OMG [LOOK ](http://starberry-cupcake.tumblr.com/post/87437248550/hotmothfanatic-yo-i-drew-delphine-and)AT THIS BEAUTY MADDIE MADE
> 
> Again, thank you all if you've been reading and/or waiting for this! you're the best!


	7. All of the prisoners serving life sentences wait for the earth to suddenly shake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Enjolras stopped right before the door that lead to the center of the building: the control tower. The computer, which was the root of all communications and energy in the Institute, was located in the top of a tower, set inside the building itself in the form of a Panopticon, a symbol of flawless vigilance, control and power. Entering without being seen was impossible. Enjolras smiled.
> 
> They were there to perform the impossible or die trying, after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a million and a half years, and even if I don't think there's much people out there impatiently waiting for it, I apologize for taking so long. This chapter is very decisive plot-wise, a lot of things are revealed and I hope those revelations are as interesting for you to read as they were for me to plan out and write. I want to send a special shout-out to  
> [Ibbyliv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibbyliv) for encouraging me to keep trusting in this story ♥ The title of this chapter is from Regina Spektor's song "Prisoners".

Enjolras appeared confident and stoic, like the statue of an archangel come to life. He had to look so, for everyone’s sakes. He did not feel that power, not really, his mind was a junction of opposing feelings that were fighting each other for control over his senses: fear, hesitation, anticipation, hope, anger, will. Enjolras was scared of dying, of course he was, and he was terrified of seeing his friends die before him. But every one of them, even Grantaire, had decided to fight regardless, if not for themselves, for those around them.

Grantaire was walking alongside him, as composed as possible under the circumstances, and Enjolras had the almost uncontrollable urge of holding his hand. But he could not let himself do that, not yet. They had to wait. Grantaire did not believe that the world outside was a synonym of freedom, but he had stated more than once that he believed in Enjolras. It should pressure Enjolras, those expectations to fulfill, they were about to commence an apocalypse and it was all fueled by that blind faith in a future that Grantaire did not see. Still, it did not feel like pressure, it was more like a wall that had been taken down between the two of them. It was _trust_.

They were about to unleash chaos and the knowledge of that was, at the same time, intimidating and exhilarating. The plan had to be set out through the littlest and most subtle ways of communication, given the vigilance that they were surrounded by. Yes, Dr. Philippe had lowered his control over them after intervening with Enjolras’s access to his own powers, but the knowledge of how much the doctor had known of their previous plans had alerted them to be more careful. Small notes passed surreptitiously from one to another, whispers in secluded corners, codes only they could understand; they had tried everything they could. Meanwhile, two extremely important keys of the plan had been taken care of, in the most undetected ways possible: Combeferre had to use his gathered information to perform a minor procedure to take Feuilly’s tracking device out of him, and Enjolras and Grantaire had to learn to control their combined power.

Enjolras knew the burden it had represented for Combeferre to do what he had to. His friend was capable, extremely capable, of doing that surgery and Feuilly trusted him more than enough; if there was someone who could do it, it was definitely Combeferre. But that was a heavy weight to carry, to be the one everybody blindly trusted; and Combeferre was more scared of being prejudicial to his friends than he was of his own mortality. Still, with tools Marius had periodically sneaked out of the clinics in various instances, he had successfully removed the device from Feuilly’s arm, producing the smallest scar possible that could be sealed with a powerful medical spray that Marius had stolen for them.

Enjolras and Grantaire, on their part, had used the smallest windows of opportunity to train their abilities as much as the situation allowed them, taking the time Cosette and Éponine needed, to perform another part of the plan outside the Institute, to consolidate their new power. The key of their attack was in their unity and they had only one chance to make it work.

Enjolras stopped right before the door that lead to the center of the building: the control tower. The computer, which was the root of all communications and energy in the Institute, was located in the top of a tower, set inside the building itself in the form of a Panopticon, a symbol of flawless vigilance, control and power. Entering without being seen was impossible. Enjolras smiled.

They were there to perform the impossible or die trying, after all.

* * *

 

Marius had searched for Cosette’s father as soon as he had known he had been captured. He wanted to inform him of their intention of rescuing him but, more than anything, he wanted to let him know that Cosette was safe. He did not have, as an intern, the authorization to enter the cell he was kept in, but Mabeuf did. Not because the old man was powerful inside the Institute, but because he had something even more important: he was underestimated.

The cell in which Dr. Madeleine (the man who was known as Ultime Fauchelevent by his daughter) was kept, was not really a cell. To hide him away from other inmates, they had used a small study to lock him in. It was not really impossible for Dr. Madeleine to escape on his own, if he would have wanted, but Marius knew that he stayed to keep everyone’s attention on him and away from Cosette.

Mabeuf, as a librarian, had access to the study, to replace or add books at will; and, as the frail old man he seemed to be, nobody really considered him a threat in any situation. Marius had been assisting Mabeuf on so many occasions before, that his presence was not questioned, and being the cameras in the study sound-less, because it was never meant to be a cell in the first place, it was the perfect opportunity for an encounter.

When Marius and Mabeuf entered the study, they noticed a bar wall had been set to divide the room in two, and Dr. Madeleine was with his back towards the door on the other side of the bars, sitting on a bench. He seemed, to Marius’s eyes, like someone who had gone through hell before and had survived, only to be brought back into it.

They started placing books in the shelves and removing others, slowly, and Marius made sure his own back was to the camera, as Dr. Madeleine’s was.

“Dr. Madeleine, please don’t turn around, I don’t want the camera to capture us talking” Marius began, his voice slightly trembling with nervousness “My name is Marius, I’m an intern here and I want you to know that Cosette is safe”

Dr. Madeleine’s back, which had been slumped before, straightened immediately. There was no need for words, the strength in that movement and the expanse of his back were enough to convey an extremely serious threat.

“She sent me to tell you that she’s ok and I wanted to let you know that we’re getting you out of here today” Marius’s voice was still awkward and he wished he could seem more confident “I met Cosette when she came here to find out about her past…and her abilities” Dr. Madeleine’s back moved, as if he was going to turn around but stopped himself before doing so “I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep her safe, but I also know that she’s more capable than all of us to do so herself” Marius smiled “My friends are inmates here and we’re planning a big break very soon. Monsieur Mabeuf and I will help you out and you can meet Cosette outside”

“How am I supposed to trust you?” those were the first words he said, and they were marked with the severity of someone who had asked them before.

“She told me you would ask that” Marius replied “and to tell you that she trusts me as much as she trusted Catherine…I tried to ask her who Catherine was, but she just smiled and told me you’d understand”

Marius noticed how the man relaxed after those words and, even if he couldn’t see his face, he would have bet that Dr. Madeleine was smiling.

“She’s safe?” he asked, and his voice was stripped down from the threat, conveying only worry.

“Yes, she’s staying with me…with us, I mean” Marius blushed “in Monsieur Mabeuf’s house”

“How much does she know about this place? About her powers?”

“We know about her mother…that she was a 1st Generation patient and the last one to die…thanks to Cosette’s abilities” Marius found it hard to lay all these terrible facts to someone who had lived through them.

“Do you know how Fantine knew me?” Dr. Madeleine asked “Why she knew she could trust me?”

“No”

Marius felt nervous, he ignored what was about to be said but could feel the decisive importance of the context as if it was impregnated in the air, like the scent of a story that had happened before, inside those very walls.

“Because she knew me…and she knew I had survived what she was going through” Dr. Madeleine sighed “My name isn’t Madeleine or Fauchelevent…I am Jean Valjean. I’m an escaped convict…and a Generation 00 survivor”

* * *

 

“Are you ready?” Enjolras almost whispered, only to Grantaire’s ears.

There was kindness in his voice, more kindness than Grantaire had ever heard from him before, and he knew why. He wasn’t just asking a question, he was offering him a way out. His last chance for a way out.

“Let’s go out with a bang” Grantaire joked, if he had to leave that cruel world, he would do it with a pun.

Enjolras smiled and his skin irradiated a warm glow, not hiding his re-discovered ability, just for a moment. Grantaire wished he could have more chances to lit Enjolras up like that. He admittedly wished for more light, for the first time in his life. But, perhaps, it was too late for wishes.

They run towards the tower, as they had never ran before. They were quick, they were steady, but they still rang the alarms around them soon enough. With drone cameras following them, they continued towards the tower that seemed unreachable, as if it was getting farther and farther the closer they got, like in a dream. Maybe it was all a dream.

They were intercepted by a group of guards, which stood defiantly between them and their destination, pointing their weapons at them before they could even think of reaching the powerful construction that seemed always out of reach, like an open door across a precipice.

“Turn back now or we’ll have to take you to Javert” one of them warned.

“I guess you’ll have to do just that” Enjolras sentenced; confident and stoic, like the statue of an archangel come to life. 

* * *

 

“I have to admit this was a better plan than I initially expected” Éponine said, not really knowing if it was a good idea to say it out loud in the first place.

“Well, I don’t have as much experience as you do, but I read a lot and that’s how I thought of this” Cosette explained “I read it in a story, a long time ago”

They were both sitting inside a vehicle that was increasingly bigger than the one they had used on the previous escape. It was a hover-truck with wheels they could de-attach when required. It was new, Cosette had purchased it weeks before, but they had decided to make it look like a battered, abandoned vehicle that seemed ages old, and park it in an awful-looking nearby street. The truck looked, from the outside, like an unwanted piece of crap that someone had driven there and it had died on them before they could reach a destination, nobody in that city would take notice of such a thing. Days passed and, as Cosette had predicted, the vehicle started to blend so much with the street that neighbors, and the occasional passerby, identified it with the gritty place and didn't ask questions about it. That truck was their escape plan in disguise.

Cosette had said that the best way to hide something was in plain sight, so they spent all their time not only planning the escape from the outside, but blending the vehicle with their surroundings and observing the street, learning its schedules and repetitions, with Éponine’s abilities and Gavroche’s added skills, much to Éponine’s dismay.

“Good for you, having access to an education” Éponine hissed.

“Alright, look, I get it” Cosette turned to her, frowning “I understand that I had privileges, I understand that we live in an unequal society where I had luck whereas others haven’t, but I don’t think I have personally offended you in such a way, for you to dismiss me like this every time we have a conversation” her voice turned gentler “have I? Because if I have, I’d like you to tell me, so I can properly apologize for it, because I swear to you that I never intended to do so…”

Éponine looked at her in the eyes, about to unleash all her internalized anger onto her. But she couldn't. Cosette wasn't looking at her with the superiority Éponine believed she did, or with anger, or even with the dreaded pity she always hated so much. She was _worried_. She was worried for her, as if they had been friends for years. Because Cosette was kind and gentle and Éponine hated that she couldn't _really_ hate her, even if she wanted to.

“You didn't do anything, don’t worry” she settled on answering.

“But I certainly seemed to have offended you in a way in which…”

Cosette stopped in the middle of the sentence and Éponine turned to her, fearing she might have figured out how she felt.

“Is it because of this?” she asked “Because this whole thing escalated since I've been here and your brother is involved? I mean, I understand that I’m responsible for…”

“What? No! What do you think that you are responsible for?” Éponine scoffed “This is not your fault…”

“Is it because I invaded your shelter?” she asked “because I’d understand if it’s that…I know you already had enough to worry about without me walking in there and taking up space…I have never really had friends before, and I had nowhere else to go. After being alone for so long, I've became this awkward, self-conscious bundle of nerves…it’s difficult for me to connect with people”

And then Éponine understood. She saw Cosette playing nervously with her hair and mumbling things, half to herself and half to Éponine, not looking at her in the eyes, and she saw the same doubts and the same insecurity she felt, reflected back at her.

“I’d like to be more like you, because you’re strong and independent and so brave, and I’m just a random girl who is trying to do something useful” Cosette looked up, suddenly “And I’m not just saying it because I want you to like me, mind you, I’m being honest here, and you can do with it whatever you want” she added with more severity.

Éponine laughed. She laughed wholeheartedly, like she hadn't in a while, she laughed because of Cosette, because of her, because of Marius and because of everything and nothing at the same time. She laughed until tears were forming in her eyes, tears she had held back for other reasons, and that were set free through an opposite sensation.

Cosette looked at her in awe, her prominent cheeks turning crimson red, and was about to stand up from the front seat of the van when Éponine put a hand on her wrist and stopped her.

“I don’t hate you” she said, drying the tears with the back of her hand “I really don’t” she smiled.

Cosette looked at her with bewilderment and Éponine let go of her wrist once she showed no signs of trying to get away.

“I was jealous of you” Éponine admitted, more naturally than she thought she ever could.

“Of _me_?” Cosette asked, incredulous “Because of the life I grew up with?”

“Not really, no” Éponine answered “Because you’re kind and selfless and pretty…”

“I’m definitely _not_ pre…”

“…and because Marius chose _you_ ”

At that, Cosette stopped talking. She tried to say something but felt everything was inadequate.

“It was stupid really…because, thinking about it, it wasn't really about Marius” Éponine continued “It was because I formed this idea of you being everything I couldn't be and of Marius being everything I never had. I idealized Marius, because he was kind to me when no one else was, and I demonized you, because to me, you were perfect, just because he loved _you_ and not _me._ And I wrongly blamed _you_ for it. I didn't stop to see that you were as human as I was, and so is Marius.” She smiled “He deserves someone who loves him truly, as a person, not as an idea, and _you_ do.”

“Éponine, I didn't know you…I didn't even see it, I’m so sorry” she apologized with sincerity in her eyes “Nobody had ever felt for me what Marius does and I have never felt how I do for him…everything is so intoxicatingly new that I…I never saw what was around me. I didn't notice. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re telling me that Marius is your first relationship?” Éponine asked, surprised.

“Éponine, I’m an overprotected, socially incompetent, overweight girl with abnormal abilities…” she smiled “Which doesn't mean I feel I don’t deserve nice things, or that I hate myself, because I don’t; and it also doesn't mean that I should require someone else’s appreciation to feel whole,” she sighed “but when it comes to social perception of me, I don’t know why the fact comes as a shock to you” her smile didn't falter and Éponine didn't know if she should punch her or hug her.

She settled on sighing.

“I would really like to tell you that you’re so much better than you give yourself credit for, but you’ll probably say the same about how I feel about myself.” She smiled “I probably should have never blamed you, but blame how I learned to see myself.”

“Maybe we should just see ourselves as what we truly are” Cosette commented.

“And what is that?” Éponine asked.

“Limitless beings” she said, genuinely, effortlessly, and Éponine wanted nothing more than to believe her.

She smiled again. Cosette somehow made people smile and Éponine had thought she was immune to that power. Turns out she was not, nor did she want to be.

Suddenly, the sound of conversations and footsteps on a nearby street alerted Éponine. She recognized those laughs and voices because she had grown up with them. It was a division of the Underground Force known as Patron Minette. If Montparnasse figured out that something was not as it normally was, they were done for.

“How good are you in short distance combat?” Éponine asked Cosette, standing up from the shotgun seat and hoping against all hope that Cosette’s answer was more than affirmative. 

* * *

 

The guards escorted Enjolras and Grantaire towards the top of the tower, where Javert was always watching, unless he had a special case to follow closely. Enjolras just looked ahead, letting the guards put them inside the hover-elevator and deliver them on the top of the Panopticon. His mind was overflowing with the steps of the plan he had to follow and set in motion, wishing that everyone was not only doing what was agreed but, more than anything, that they were safe. After Enjolras had got shot, they couldn’t count on the doctors keeping them alive at all costs, and even if they knew the deathly dangers of their plan, he still wanted everyone to be safe. He hoped against all odds that everyone was safe.

Javert was in the center of the room, projectors surrounding him with the images of different sections of the Institute at once, while guards typed on screens and checked levels on other monitors. Vigilance in the building was flawless.

Beside Javert was the nucleus of everything: a cylinder with huge cables, like enormous veins enveloping all; a plethora of fans, like lungs inhaling and exhaling for it; and many screens, like eyes reflecting it all. It was moving and buzzing, blue lights rotating around it and it seemed like a living thing. A living, breathing prisoner, just like them. The computer was overflowing with energy and feeding every nook and crane of the Institute from its very center. It was easier, more convenient, to have just one root of power, just one element controlling all the rest. But it was also easier to destroy. Enjolras suppressed a smile.

“What are you two doing here?” Javert commanded with authority, and Enjolras wondered what kind of authority he thought he had.

He was even more numbed to reality, to what was going on in that place, than they had ever been.

“We found them running towards the tower, sir” responded the guard that had talked to them before “We thought you might know what we should do with them. Their current information cards state they should be delivered to the closest high authority available, and that’s you”

Enjolras wanted to hug Combeferre. He had been right, after their last encounter with Dr. Philippe, their cases had been instructed to be directed towards those with clearer authority to decide. They were difficult to handle, after all.

“One is powerless, but Dr. Philippe ordered…” the man continued.

“I know what he ordered” Javert barked “I’ll take it from here”

With that, the guards that had delivered them went back to the hover-elevator and to their posts, while the rest of them kept handling the monitors and projectors around them, without even glimpsing at Enjolras and Grantaire. The Institute was like a well-programmed machine and they were in its heart.

“What are you trying to accomplish now?” Javert read through a monitor, not even looking at them.

“Revolution” was Enjolras’s one-word response, and it was enough to alter Javert’s attitude.

He turned to them slowly, scowling threateningly, and looked at them as if he had not seen them before. Enjolras suspected he probably never had.

“That is a very dangerous word, kid” he nearly growled, like a well-trained guard dog.

“Words aren't dangerous, _ideas_ are” Enjolras responded, calmly “and, unlike us, they are immortal”

“You are valuable assets…” he turned to the monitor and then to them again “…Enjolras” he completed, after checking his information card “for the betterment of human kind. You were given gifts and you’re throwing them away for your own selfishness”

“Is it selfishness to want freedom?” Enjolras’s voice lost is calmness and he had to try his hardest not to glow with them “Is it selfishness to want equality and liberty, which are rights _inherently_ human, more human than any other fabricated ‘gifts’ you’re imposing on us?” his words escaped him with strength, his will of change present in his voice.

Whatever happened that night, the world was going to change. _It had to_.

“The only human rights that matter are dictated by the law” Javert responded, not a glimpse of doubt in his words.

But unlike Enjolras, his speech didn’t seem to come from his own heart and beliefs, but from a well-programmed education. As well-programmed as the Institute around them and the machine standing tall in front of them.

“The law is created by people, people with power” Enjolras spat “and when the law doesn’t work for the people, when injustice is a fact” his words glowed with all the light he could not shed “then Revolution becomes a right”

Javert’s face turned red with anger. Not because he believed that Enjolras had a point, but because he did not permit anyone to discredit the word of the law, because it was what had made a difference in his world, in his past. Javert was a man of the law because he owed it its life. And he defended it like a disciple defended its master: unquestioningly, uncritically and till death.

“I’m going to call Dr. Philippe” Javert sentenced “And advise him to dispose of you. Birds that fly away from their group sometimes have to get shot”

Grantaire clenched his fist. Enjolras stayed in his place, staring defiantly at Javert. The man walked towards the elevator and ordered the guards standing there to keep a close eye on the pair. One was powerless, they did not present an immediate threat. Or so he thought.

As soon as the doors of the elevator closed behind Javert, Enjolras and Grantaire turned around, facing the machine in the center of the room. They looked at its immensity for less than a second, but it felt like a lifetime. A lifetime of imprisonment.

Grantaire was the one who extended his hand first, to Enjolras, and with a certainty he had never showcased before, he asked:

“Shall we?”

Enjolras didn’t respond, he just looked at him and smiled. The warmest, brightest smile he had ever directed at Grantaire. A smile that could ignite history. They held hands, turned to the computer and closed their eyes. It was time.

“Everything comes from light and to it everything returns” Enjolras sentenced, as his glow returned to him and enfolded his body.

Grantaire’s darkness and Enjolras’s light, in a matter of seconds, fused in an unstoppable force that moved through wires and cables to set the computer into an overdrive. The machine heated up until blue flames and sparks started flying from it, and as the two of them moved towards the emergency stairs, protected by Grantaire’s shield, the heart of the Institute stopped beating with a strong explosion, that moved through the wires to everywhere it could ignite, as veins that were set aflame. Grantaire’s shield kept them protected while they run, escaping the increasing fire that turned down the power of the entire building.

It was easier, more convenient, to have just one root of power, just one element controlling all the rest. But it was also easier to destroy.

* * *

 

Marius had a million questions and not much time to ask them. He could feel in the stillness of the moment the immediacy of what was about to break loose on that very building, and the words of the man before him were heavy on the silence. Yet he was able to say nothing coherent.

“But…but we thought Cosette’s mother…” Marius cursed his nervousness and started again, more determined “We thought Cosette’s mother was part of the 1st Generation”

“That’s because it was the first one documented, the first one that was _legal_ ” Cosette’s father, Valjean, clenched his fists “They started their experiments in prison, with people nobody would care for or ask about, but their methods were even more inhuman than they were here. The government was against it, but the pharmaceutical companies, who saw a great economical horizon in this, allowed them to perform their initial experiments where the population and the government wouldn’t notice what they were doing.” He was silent for a few seconds, as if he was gathering his words, and then continued “Fantine worked with my sister and she saw when I…I was convicted instead of her, when she tried to steal some food for her children. I knew something strange was happening and I didn’t want my sister involved, so I took the blame and got captured instead. I didn’t think, after the first week of treatment, that I was going to make it out alive.”

“How did you do it?” Marius inquired “How did you survive?”

“I was there for years, and inside there, they all blurred into one confusing mess of shots and electroshocks and blood transfusions. I saw my cellmates die one by one and their bodies being carried out like dead pieces of meat. I endured. I was fueled by rage and vengeance and the thought of my sister at their mercy without me to protect her. And so, the angrier I was, the more the powers I developed.”

“Powers? You mean you have…?” Marius almost dropped the book in his hands.

“I have a strength that is above human average” He answered “Back then, they were trying to make people stronger, they weren’t thinking about the invulnerability. They were trying to make us have physical force rather than immunity and I believe they changed their minds because of me. Because I used my strength to escape.”

“But you came back…when Fantine asked you to save Cosette, you…how was it they didn’t recognize you?”

“Most of the attending doctors at the time didn’t really pay enough attention to us as people, at least not enough to recognize me looking well-fed, scar-less and without a decrepit smell of dead skin and dried blood on me. We were lab rats, cell occupants, numbers. We were codes, mine started with 24, the code number of the prison; 60, my cell and 1, the number assigned to me among my cellmates. I was the only survivor of that cell and, as of today, the only one who escaped and lived.” He sighed “The only one from that time who is suspicious of my real identity is Javert.” He said the name like a curse, not with anger but tired, defeated.

“Javert was there? He knew about them running unauthorized experiments?” Marius could not understand; after all, Javert seemed extremely keen on fighting for the law to be respected and without government approval, what they were doing was against the law he defended so strongly.

“He didn’t know that they were not authorized; by that time, he was just a guard. He still doesn’t know. All they told those guards was that we were to receive treatment to make of us something beneficial for the society we had wronged. It was enough of a reason for Javert. He has been chasing me for years, because I escaped during his watch and he feels responsible. I am a dark spot in his record, a mistake, all he wants is to stop me…but Philippe wants Cosette.”

“Did Fantine know that you had powers?” Marius inquired.

“I told her. She didn’t mind that, though, she knew I could be trusted because she was there when I…when I did what I did for my sister…what I tried to do. When I escaped prison, it took years for me to regain a normal life. I was so angry at everyone and everything but I needed to find my family. I went to the church my sister volunteered in, and the bishop there helped me; he didn’t know where my sister was, but he did help…kindness and trust can make a difference in someone whose world has drowned in rage.” He took a deep breath before continuing and Marius waited patiently “It took me years to find tracks of my sister and her kids but, when I finally did, I was led here. Many people, unable to make ends meet, volunteered in exchange for money for their families. My sister and Fantine had gone together but, when I arrived, disguised as an attending, my sister was already dead.”

He stopped abruptly and Marius wondered if he should offer his condolences or if it was out of place in such a moment, but he was unable to say a thing because Valjean continued shortly after.

“When I found Fantine, she told me about the other doctor, how in love with him she had been and how he had promised her what everyone here strives for: _freedom_.” Valjean sighed “But of course, he lied. As soon as he knew about her being pregnant, he ran. The only good thing he did was to keep quiet about it, even if it was for himself and not for Fantine.” He clenched his fists again “I helped her as I would have helped my sister, as I would have helped my nephews and nieces if I was ever able to find them. I promised her that I would do everything in my power to keep Cosette free and I intend to do so.”

“How were you able to escape this place unharmed?” Marius asked “It couldn’t have been easy”

“I had the advantage of being impersonating a doctor but, more than anything, I had one person helping me.” Valjean lowered his head “He was a kind young man, with ideals and hopes. He told me once he had a baby at home and he was working hard to be reunited with them, because he didn’t have the money to sustain them both. But he found out.” Valjean tensed “He couldn’t just let it go and play blind, he was of a good nature. He knew I was up to something; as an intern, he was very observant and knew more than everyone assumed he did. He helped me leave but…he was stopped before following me. He gave his life for me, I will never forget that.”

Marius’s hands trembled and the book he was holding suddenly fell to the floor. The world around him was blurry and he was not able to tell if it was because of his emotions or if it was because of the tears running down his face.

“Was that man…” his voice cracked through the tears and Mabeuf turned to him.

“Marius…” Mabeuf said “Are you sure…”

“Was his name Georges Pontmercy?” Marius asked, determined.

Valjean’s back arched visibly, his face still hidden from view.

“Did you know him?” he simply asked.

“He was my father”

In that very moment, the lights went off. Everything in the room was enveloped in darkness and Marius knew that, just like his father many years before, he was there to help an innocent man find his way out of that place. The same innocent man.

When the energy of the building left, Marius’s resolution flourished. He had to take action, for himself, for his father and for something greater than them both.  

* * *

 

Combeferre was scared. He was scared for his friends’ lives, for his own and for everything that was about to take place. He knew that he wasn’t the only one who was afraid, but he was the one more prone to be nervous for it, because of his ability. He could see every outcome and analyze every possible conclusion, with the clarity of someone who had seen them happen before, and that had brought terrors to his dreams.

They needed to be quick. As soon as the power failed, as soon as the tiniest glimpse of the Institute shutting down could be perceived, they had to move. Combeferre could almost see the blueprints of the Institute overlaying the place itself; he had walked around the building so many times gathering this information, sure it would be a deciding advantage in the future. It was thanks to it that they could plan where to make the next move.

“If I don’t get to say this later…” Bahorel started.

“Please, don’t get uncharacteristically grim all of a sudden” Feuilly frowned.

“Chill, Ginger” Bahorel scolded “I just wanna say that it’s been a pleasure and an honor to fight alongside you, beautiful revolutionary assholes”

Everyone smiled at that, Feuilly playfully punching Bahorel on the side. They were all gathered there, with the exception of Enjolras and Grantaire, who had to actually start the whole thing; Marius, who was getting Dr. Madeleine out; and Courfeyrac, who was in charge of guiding the groups out to meet them.

“Combeferre, you should try to stop that” Jehan kindly said, gently touching his shoulder.

“Stop what?” Combeferre asked. 

“All that unbelievable worrying you’re doing” Bossuet offered.

“We’re all worried, ‘Ferre, we are” Joly scratched his neck, nervously “but you are trying to control every outcome, as if it was possible, and you’re stressing yourself enough already. We’ll do our best and, if we die trying, at least we tried…right?”

“The dawn of the revolution will see us united,” Bahorel imitated Enjolras’s voice “whether it is to greet us or to bid us farewell”

They all laughed.

“He is so dramatic sometimes” Feuilly sighed, still smiling.

“I think he’s poetic” Jehan commented.

“I’m glad he showed up among us” Combeferre said.

They all nodded.

“His light may guide us out in time” Jehan said, and it was the last they could mutter before the lights went out.

The pitch blackness felt stronger than Combeferre had anticipated, yet they had an advantage adjusting to darkness, sneaking out of the building and hiding from guards as they had for years.

They knew the plan as the back of their hands and moved accordingly. As Enjolras had said, each of their abilities was necessary. They had to create a pathway that could serve to block guards and doctors from leaving the Institute, as well as guide the inmates outside to meet Gavroche, who would escort them to Éponine and Cosette.

Feuilly’s teleportation, Bahorel’s strength, Combeferre’s psychokinesis and Jehan's materializing ability would help building it, while Bossuet’s illusions and Joly’s symptom transmission would distract guards who came towards them. Enjolras was to join the defense when he arrived, while Grantaire’s shield, with Courfeyrac’s ability to transmit calmness to the innocent inmates, guided them out, later joined by Feuilly and Marius.

But before all of that could happen, everything needed a starting point. A defense, a pathway and a symbol. They had to build a barricade. 

* * *

 

Marius ran, with Mabeuf and Valjean beside him. He had to reduce the pace for Mabeuf to catch up, though, because the old man could not keep up with them both, but he did not want by any means to leave him behind.

“Monsieur, I can carry you if you…” Valjean offered, but Mabeuf shook his head.

“It’s ok, this is where I stop” he simply answered, while his pace slowed.

Marius and Valjean stopped alongside him. Marius was about to ask what he was doing, when a group of guards crossed their path. One, then another, until there were over ten of them surrounding the three.

“What…?” Marius was about to ask, but then he remembered.

The study was close to the guards’ station, which was why they had chosen it for Valjean. He had completely overlooked it. He always got lost in the building and Mabeuf had to guide him through, he had never been the most coordinated person. But Mabeuf hadn't even mentioned it when they planned the escape, he hadn't even reminded Marius of the fact. And he looked calm under the circumstances, completely calm as if he had seen this coming and was at ease with it.

“Marius,” Mabeuf said, completely steady “show this kind man the way and take him to his daughter” he smiled and put his hand in his pocket.

Steadily, carefully, he pulled something out. It was too small to be a gun, too round, too…

“No, Monsieur!” Marius exclaimed, as he realized what was happening.

He knew why Monsieur Mabeuf was so calm, why he hadn't reminded Marius of the location of the study, why he wasn't worried about keeping up with their pace. It was a grenade.

“I couldn't help your father, all those years ago” he said, the smile still in his face “but now I will be able to help you, as he would have wanted”

“You don’t have to do this, we can think of another way, we can…” Marius felt tears running down his face, warm in the coldness of the air around him.

As cold as the guns the guards were holding. As cold as the proximity of death.

“Goodbye, Marius” he said, holding the grenade up in the air for the guards to see “Your father would be proud of you”

Marius couldn't say it was him guiding Cosette’s father when it was completely the opposite. When the guards saw the old man holding the explosive, they all turned their attention at him, pointing him and approaching him, forgetting about Marius and Valjean, thinking he wouldn't dare detonate the thing. Valjean almost carried Marius away from there, pushing and shoving guards aside when necessary, as if they were mere scarecrows, positioned to frighten them away. One fired, but missed. Marius didn’t want to see their faces, because he knew he’d see someone as young as him, if not younger. He knew he was following Valjean but could barely see through the tears and the tide of dark uniforms being pushed aside. But Valjean didn’t continue. He found a vent entrance, opened it with ease using his strength, and entered in the vacant space, carrying Marius with him.

Just when Valjean put his hands on Marius’s ears, he felt the explosion all around him. The small space of the reinforced ventilation gap shook all around them, but kept almost intact while the flames passed through the hall. An intense fire, scalding and almost suffocating, changed the coldness of the air in an instant, drowning the world in a hell of its own.

Marius would have liked to tell the story as a literary kind of hero, and say he endured, say he could continue with his head held high and his ideals set in his heart like written in stone. But Marius broke down in tears. He sobbed through it all, desperately, intensely, holding on to Cosette’s father as if he was his own. The man kept still and held him, understanding and pity written all over his face. But Marius didn't know how to tell him that he was crying for them all. Not just for Mabeuf, the man whose kindness and patience had saved him and lead him, but also for those kids, dying for a cause they didn't know and didn't understand, just because they were a product of a corrupted and rotten regime. He was crying for his friends, a group of smart young kids, their own lives stolen to be sold as merchandise in the business of war. He was crying for Éponine, for her siblings and her life, which had known not love or understanding. He was crying for Cosette, who had never met her parents and was forced to hide herself out of fear of getting caught and tortured. He was crying for them all, because the real people responsible for this were faceless creatures hiding atop company buildings, financing war to get more profit, unaltered by death and despair of those they sacrificed. Marius cried because he suddenly felt so helpless in the middle of a chessboard handled by invisible powers that weren't even in the battlefield. Marius cried because he knew that it didn't matter, there were going to fight anyway. And the massacre that had just occurred was only the beginning of the Revolution. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Catherine is the doll Valjean gave to Cosette when she was little, in case you were wondering what that was about
> 
> * The story Cosette was referencing in her plan was Chesterton's "The Invisible Man"
> 
> * The whole "socially incompetent, overweight girl" problem Cosette mentions has a lot to do with me, I know that's incredibly pretentious because Cosette is amazing and hella better than I can be, but I was talking the other day about how plus size girls' insecurities are hardly ever in fiction, especially YA books, because there is so little representation and I want to do my part to change that, even if it's in fic form. 
> 
> * It's incredibly INCREDIBLY important to me to deconstruct and destroy the "versus" situation Cosette and Éponine tend to be put in, especially since the musical, because I wholeheartedly believe it's a problem of internalized misogyny and not something Hugo meant in that way precisely, so I tried my best to fit that development in here, the best my limited abilities could allow me. I don't mean that Éponine and Cosette are now instant magic friends, but they're on their way
> 
> * The "limitless beings" line is a reference to Kerli's quote: "life is to be created and we are limitless beings". Kerli and Emilie Autumn are huge inspirations for me and this fic reflects that, I believe
> 
> * There are brick references in the entirety of this fanfiction, as I've mentioned before, but in this chapter I included some almost direct and direct quotes in Enjolras. One is in "Words aren't dangerous, ideas are and, unlike us, they are immortal", which was based on his canon line "sufferings bring hither their agony and ideas their immortality", and another one is when he says "Everything comes from light and to it everything returns", which is indeed a direct quote. There's another Hugo quote, kind of paraphrased, when he says "when injustice is a fact then Revolution becomes a right”, which was originally "when dictatorship is a fact revolution becomes a right". 
> 
> * This is un-beta'ed and all the mistakes are absolutely mine and mine alone, sorry about that
> 
> * If you're reading this story, you're wonderful and I appreciate more than you'll ever know


	8. Come ride with me through the veins of history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Enjolras didn’t even have the chance to look at him. He hoped, without turning back, that he knew how much he wanted to see him again. To be reunited with him as a free person, on the other side. But, for now, they had to run._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After many months, here is the last official chapter of this fic! An epilogue is next, to close the story once and for all, and I'll try to finish it faster than these, because this story needs to end asap. Even if this is in the tags already, let me warn you properly before you read: this chapter in particular is very violent, there are descriptions of severe wounds (including an amputation scene), violent fights, anxiety episodes and deaths. All of the action I never wrote had to end up here, so I couldn't avoid it any longer. I hope it's passable. Thank you for reading and let's hope the next one comes soon enough.  
> The title of this chapter comes from 'Knights of Cydonia' by Muse.

Enjolras ran. He didn’t remember ever running like that inside the Institute, breathlessly and with all his might, as if his life depended on it. Because it did. And that thought followed him like an ever-present ghost. Enjolras was prepared to die, if it came to it, but not yet.

Grantaire was running beside him and they had decided that, past the point of immediate danger, Grantaire was not to use his power to shield them, unless it was absolutely necessary. They didn’t want him getting exhausted before his most important task was carried out.

There were no words while they ran, nothing more than occasional nods or gestures, and the world around them was a dark blur. Rooms they’ve been in, halls they’ve walked by, doors they’ve went through; they all became a bundle of formless shapes as they passed them. The world they’ve grown up in was still in shadows and Enjolras felt, as the images passed by his peripheral vision, that it was crumbling down with each step. That it was falling apart.

If things were going according to plan, they would exit the walls of the building to find a barricade outside. Enjolras didn’t exactly remember whose idea it had been to build one, but it was what best helped their purpose. Their friendship had reached a point in which they were so connected, it didn’t feel as if ideas were one’s or another’s, they just were. As a group, they had become a force none of them could be by themselves and Enjolras knew it was the right way. After all, they had manufactured them as individual weapons, never intending them to find strength in companionship. In trust.

Grantaire reached the door just before him, and Enjolras saw him stopping abruptly once he did. His eyes went wide and his stance was frozen mid-way. Enjolras feared the worst. What he saw, though, was everything but what he feared.

The massive barricade was standing tall. It blocked the path to the gate and was shielded by their friends, who were already fighting guards who tried to separate them from it to tear it apart. It was made with the most diverse materials, which Enjolras felt was remarkably appropriate, to the point that Jehan would find it poetic. There were beds, lockers, tables, chairs, wardrobes, hover stretchers and hover chairs; there were lunch tables and stools, equipment broken into pieces and piles of uniforms in laundry hover carts. Some pieces were made of stone or metal, created with Jehan’s abilities for the sole purpose of enhancing it and keeping it together. Other inmates, brave young kids, younger than them, were helping too, placing in it whatever their hands could carry, scared yet determined to help pave the way to their freedom. 

Joly and Bossuet had been keeping the guards at bay with their powers, but Bahorel had to stop using his strength to build the barricade, so he could climb down and help them. Guards were starting to come in hoards, alerted by the fact that nobody had yet been able to stop them. However, Enjolras knew many of the guards were probably still inside, attempting to patrol the pitch-black rooms and halls and being called by scared attendants who feared the inmates would turn on them. Without the energy which gave them overpowering control, the Institute’s forces could be, for the first time, in equal advantage. And that idea terrified them.

He didn’t lose time in any more contemplating, he had to help. His power was burning him from the inside and he shined with all the energy the Institute didn’t have.

“Go wait for Courf” he told Grantaire, as he passed by him.

In stories, it was often romantic how two lovers got separated from each other in the midst of battle. There was a moment in which time stood still, they looked into each other’s eyes and kissed, wishing each other luck and promising things, insolent enough to believe they had the power to promise, despite the immediate danger surrounding them. But truth wasn’t like that.

Enjolras’s right hand brushed Grantaire’s left, the memory of how they had held them to provoke all that chaos already fading in the prevailing battle. The tingling energy between them, the electricity that run through them each time, was their only way to bid farewell. There was no time to kiss when there were guards shooting darts at Bahorel, who was barely able to ditch them. There was no time to stare into each other’s eyes when a guard was holding Joly by the hair and punching him in the face while Bossuet was crying his name, only to be swallowed by a grunt of pain when another guard kicked his back. There was no time to make each other juvenile promises when Courfeyrac, guiding inmates of all ages, was doing his best not to get intercepted.

Enjolras didn’t even have the chance to look at him. He hoped, without turning back, that he knew how much he wanted to see him again. To be reunited with him as a free person, on the other side. But, for now, they had to run.

* * *

Marius felt like in a dream. An unsteady, illogical dream; one of those in which no matter how far you’d run, everything around you remained the same. He had taken a fully-charged gun from a guard, and advanced through the halls with Valjean by his side, who blocked and ditched guards that came to their encounter as if they were puppets. Which maybe they were.

Marius had decided he had done enough crying and it was time to start doing. He was still afraid, scared out of his mind, and the uncertainty of the situation was pressing around him, creeping in his thoughts like a virus. Marius knew he had to stop thinking about it all; about Mabeuf’s eyes right before he had sacrificed himself, about what his father’s fate had been, about Cosette waiting outside and what they’d do to her if they found her. Fear was the most terrible enemy of them all, because it could infect, spread and take a hold on your senses, leave you useless and gasping for air, unable to move forward. And Marius was not going to let it take him. Not again.

As soon as they arrived, he saw Enjolras running towards the aid of his friends, who were preventing guards from reaching the barricade they had built. Marius knew the worst, though, was yet to come, because there were many more guards inside the building. He had seen them.

But his place hadn’t been decided to be there, he was assigned another task. He looked for Courfeyrac, who was followed by many inmates and who Grantaire was approaching as well.

“We’re going with them, Cosette is outside” he turned to Valjean and tried to convey all the determination he was hoping to find.

“No, you go” Valjean’s sight wasn’t in Marius, though, it was lost in the confrontation before them “I’ll stay and help them”

“But we’re supposed to rescue you!” Marius could feel his body was starting to shake.

This wasn’t the plan. The plan that was so imprecise, so risky, that one change in it could make it crumble to the ground. That thought alone was enough to have his resolve crumbling as well, his hands shaking more visibly with each passing heartbeat. Marius had started measuring his time in heartbeats.

He was looking at his feet, as if he could ground himself by doing so, when he felt Valjean’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve already done that” he said, grateful “But I’m needed here, I can help too…I should have helped long ago”

Marius shook his head.

“What about Cosette?” he looked up to the man and was surprised to find that, in the midst of the desolation they were drowning in, he was smiling.

Marius knew that, if he survived the hell they were living, he was going to remember that instant and that smile for a very long time. Sometimes, you can instinctively know that a certain moment will change you. It presses itself against your skin and waits there for you to notice its importance, later on. When you need it.  

Seeing him so sure, Marius had no choice but to get infected by that certainty and thanked him silently for it. He took Valjean with him towards Enjolras, who was already leading the defense, even if he had stepped into the courtyard a few minutes before they had.

“Enjolras, this is Dr. Madeleine…actually, he’s Jean Valjean” he looked at Enjolras in the eyes and saw them blazing with the heat of the battle “he’s like you and he will help”

Marius didn’t know how Enjolras was going to take it. He had never trusted Marius fully, and he couldn’t blame him. They had met while he was working by the people who had stripped Enjolras from his freedom.

“Thank you, Marius” he said simply, and smiled reassuringly, while shaking his hand.

He didn’t know if the gratitude was because of him taking Valjean to them, if it was because of his help or just because he hadn’t ran away, despite the chaos around them. It didn’t matter. It was enough to remind Marius that what he was doing was bigger than himself, Cosette and Valjean. It was about all of them. It was about everyone.

He nodded with newfound determination, welcoming it back to his stance, to his mind, and ran to find Courfeyrac. 

* * *

Courfeyrac felt out of his depth. He knew he wasn’t going to be alone with the task of getting as many people out of there as possible, Grantaire and Marius were to help, Gavroche was going to guide them and Cosette and Éponine would be there waiting for them on the other side. But Courfeyrac’s gift put him in a different place.

His power was, after all, the reason why he had been assigned with the task. He had to calm them down, transmit reassurance, even if things turned increasingly difficult for all of them. He didn’t want to lie, though, he didn’t want to make them believe in an illusion but to help them keep grounded throughout the way. He had suggested Enjolras to trust those who didn’t want to leave the Institute with locations they’ve used as hiding spots, as well as with defense plans and some weapons, so they could stay safe while hell broke loose outside. When hell broke loose because of _them_.

Enjolras understood what their actions meant to those outside their group, he had known that starting a war while not everyone agreed on it was a risk, and he was willing to take it. He wanted to protect those in need, and he had even tried convincing those who didn’t want to fight to stay put, because he wasn’t willing to gamble with anyone’s lives. He wanted to respect everyone’s decision and give everything of him to protect as many people as he could, whether they were inside or outside the Institute when the confrontation happened. Enjolras believed, though, that sooner or later, all the inmates would understand that they were unfairly used, that they had been stripped of their inmost rights and that their freedom was at their reach if they were willing to grab it. They just had to _see_.

Combeferre was less action-prone. He had talked to them all, in various occasions and different contexts, because he thought their acceptance of the situation was going to come through understanding. He thought that their fellow inmates hadn’t had the opportunity to get influenced with the outside world and with companionship as much as they had, and that lack of education was an advantage for the doctors. They used it as another anesthetic, Combeferre thought, to numb the mind. Their action was going to succeed truly if they could wake, not their rebelliousness, but their critical thinking.

Courfeyrac, however, was immerse in feelings. His power was born from his empathy and that worked both ways. He could understand other people’s feelings as if they were his. And, sometimes, when they were too overwhelming, they _became_ his. When he had talked with the inmates, he had felt the hesitation and anxiety escaping from them, infecting other inmates and attempting to get a hold of Courfeyrac himself. Yes, there was the occasional passionate one, who was willing to risk everything for a taste of freedom, but most of them felt uneasy, scared, and with fair reason. Courfeyrac’s job was to ease their fears, because, accepting of their plan as they may be, they hadn’t willingly chosen to put it in action and the least they could do was help them through it.

Courfeyrac, as well as Enjolras and Combeferre before, wasn’t completely happy with the idea. He felt like, one way or another, these inmates were still being pushed around by others who made the choices for them. And, in Courfeyrac’s case, that hesitation on his resolution could mean losing the balance of his power and, therefore, getting infected with a fear that didn’t entirely belong to him.

“How much ‘till we arrive?” a little girl, who was holding his hand, whispered.

There were so many young children following him. He closed his eyes and tried his best not to think of the consequences their failure could mean to them.

“You see this mountain here?” Courfeyrac smiled, hoping his doubts didn’t translate in his features “A little boy, just like you, will be waiting for us outside” he explained, and was relieved to see Grantaire and Marius on their way towards them.

“Are we ready?” Grantaire asked, looking back for an almost imperceptible second.

Courfeyrac knew he was checking if Enjolras was still there. He didn’t mention it. He had tried doing so as well, to see if Jehan was still there, building the barricade with his powers; if Combeferre was still there, guiding them through it; if Bahorel was still there, fighting with the guards; if Joly was still there, defending with his abilities; if Bossuet was still there, distracting with his own; if Enjolras was still there too, leading them all. 

“I hope so, I don’t know how long we’ll be able to…” Courfeyrac answered, quietly. 

“We’ll be fine” Marius put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to meet his eyes.

Calmness. He needed to calm down. They needed him to. 

Courfeyrac nodded. It was time.

* * *

It had been quite some time since Éponine had seen Patron Minette. They had become the most prolific group inside the Underground Force, for what she had heard, snatching the most useful test subjects, whether their guardians accepted or not, and without been traced by authorities or connected to the Institute in any way.

Montparnasse was good at remaining hidden when he wanted to, even if his natural instincts commanded him to be front and center of everything. To be praised. To be admired. To be feared.

Éponine had tried her best to separate herself from the Underground Force as soon as she was able to. She wanted nothing to do with those inhuman criminals, and yes, that included her parents. Her presence was sure to become suspicious in the cunning eyes of Montparnasse. There was no way of getting out of that one outsmarting him.

“What do you know about him?” Cosette asked, as soon as they were on view through the van’s window.

Montparnasse’s lean figure, confident walk, always one step ahead of the rest, always condescending, gave him away as the leader.

“He’s smart, heartless, unsympathetic…the only thing bigger than his cruelty is his ego” she sighed “He’s very good at fighting, and so are the ones with him. He loves money but, more than anything…”

“Loves himself” Cosette smiled, never leaving Montparnasse out of her sight.

Éponine felt as if she was reading through him.

“Exactly” she was still worried, though, this was worse than just some regular guards patrolling the streets.

“Don’t worry” Cosette’s voice sounded calm, focused, everything Éponine was not “Get him talking and leave the rest to me. Just concentrate on using him to get information”

They exited the vehicle as soon as they started approaching. Éponine didn’t remember how many of them were in the group the last time she had seen them, but had the feeling two minions weren’t enough for Montparnasse’s standards. Something was going on and she was going to get to the root of it.

“Well, if it isn’t the daughter of the wolf!” Montparnasse’s voice was melodic but threatening.

Like the hissing of a snake approaching a victim.

“Montparnasse” Éponine sentenced.

“Isn’t it strange to find you in our territory?” he smiled, but his eyes didn’t follow.

“I don’t even know what your territory is anymore, ‘Parnasse, it might as well be the entire city for what I hear” she didn’t give a step forward, even if she felt as if he was cornering her.

She didn’t want him near the van, if she could help it.

“More or less, actually, but that’s not what I mean” he kept walking nonetheless, his gaze over her like a predator “I heard that Gav got out”

Her stance changed. She frowned severely while she clenched her fists, how dare he mention Gavroche? How dare he _use him_ against her?

She was going to spit something to him when she felt Cosette’s hand on her wrist. It was gentle, cautious, warm, and Éponine’s anger diminished. She remembered where she was, what they were doing. He wasn’t going to get to her.

“And what’s _this_?” Montparnasse looked at Cosette as if she were a mere decorative object he hadn’t bothered in glancing at before.

Cosette didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him. She seemed weak, scared even, and Montparnasse was eager to destroy her just because of that. Cosette looked like she wanted to disappear, and Éponine wondered where that brave, confident woman had gone to. He got closer to her, cornering her.

“It’s not like someone as big as you can hide easily in plain sight” he spat.

Cosette didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. Montparnasse sighed, bored. He wasn’t there for an easy kill, he was there for a confrontation.

He turned to Éponine with that very intention written all over his eyes.

“If you ask me” he said, as his henchmen approached “I’d say there’s something rotten going on if you’re so close to the Hole and your brother is supposed to be out of it” he turned then to the others, not so much for reassurance but because he wanted an audience “Wouldn’t you say so too, Babet? Gueulemer?”

They both nodded and smiled at him, in their opposite ways. Babet was slim, with a plain appearance yet threatening-looking at the same time, in an irony that was difficult to imagine yet clear when one saw him. Gueulemer was imposing, commanding, his physique was even more threatening than Babet’s or Montparnasse’s, yet his eyes were mostly vacant and had the stance of a henchmen waiting for orders. Seeing them, Éponine was more certain that there was one of them missing, one that she couldn’t quite remember all too well. The vacancy of him was more alarming than his presence would be.

“What are you trying to do, ‘Ponine?” it wasn’t really a question, it was a clear order.

Cosette slowly moved away from them, as if she was leaving her to it. Éponine was feeling increasingly more cornered by Montparnasse, and his two friends seemed to be there just in case Éponine wanted to run. Not that she could. Cosette ended up disappearing from Éponine’s peripheral vision and she started doubting whether or not her confidence had been a ruse.

“I could ask the same to you” Éponine’s stance didn’t change, she’d defy him if she had to, even if she couldn’t win.

He knew that. He smiled.

“Well, to be honest, I was doing my job, as the responsible man I am” he winked “but seeing you here is actually good for me, you see, I’m in a bit of a predicament”

His black eyes gleamed while his smile spread with ease. Nothing in him was random, every movement was calculated, but Éponine’s fear wasn’t for his predatory moves or his capacity to kill, it was for his intelligence.

“It seems the Hole didn’t like that the last kid we sold was so…uncooperative” he sighed “that Gavroche can be quite a handful, can he not?” his fists clenched at his sides, the promise of a capture written all over his body language “When I heard he got out, I was quite impressed; but no matter how talented your little brother is, his escape is damaging to my job”

He stepped closer. Éponine didn’t move.

“They won’t trust me providing good flock if I go and sell them a black sheep, you see?” he smirked “So, to secure my position, I need to deliver Gavroche back, preferably alive and not too badly beaten”

“And how are you so sure he got out?” Éponine defied.

Montparnasse pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is this how you wanna do it, ‘Ponine?” he asked “Playing dumb? I thought you were better than that”

“All I know, you’re trying to make me tell you what I’m doing here by threatening me with Gavroche’s safety” she crossed her arms, pretending a nonchalance she didn’t actually feel and hoping she could be half the liar he was “While I’m well aware that you and the living shit of my father sold him out to that Hole” she smiled “Or are you trying to make me think the doctors in there respect dirt like you enough to tell you what goes on in there?”

Éponine knew she would hit a nerve before she said it, and was pleased to see Montparnasse’s gleaming eyes growing somber and a frown smudging his impeccable stance. If there was something Montparnasse despised was being reminded that, behind the fancy suits which adorned his body and which he had killed for, behind how handsome and charming he was, with his dark skin, ruffled hair, sharp features and dark eyes, behind his commanding presence of a leader, he was a nobody just like her; and doctors, interns, people with roof over their heads and diplomas over their fireplaces, had a status he was far from achieving in the society they lived in. He didn’t like someone reminding him that reality was more powerful than any disguise.

“I don’t need _them_ ” he sentenced, and she knew his words were escaping him in a less practiced, less controlled way.

She got him. Babet and Gueulemer stepped back, enough for them to have privacy in their conversation. Not out of respect but out of fear. When Montparnasse was furious, the target became unclear.

“I have my own resources to get what I want, and if I want information, _that’s what I get_ ” he smiled sufficiently “Remember Claquesous? Maybe you don’t, that is his asset. He was always somber and vague and his discretion always helped our ends.” The pride in his voice was certainly not for his friend but for himself, for recognizing that talent and using it well “He got inside months ago and has been providing me with periodic information since then. I know all about that reckless group of kids, about your brother being with them, about your help, _‘Ponine_ ” the venom in his voice became loud, jarring “and about their plan for today”

He laughed with sufficiency and Éponine felt that she couldn’t breathe.

“I am going to get them all as they come” his eyes were disarming her and she felt the world crumbling under her feet “and they’ll _all_ start respecting me then”

Suddenly, his sufficient smile faded. His eyes, not gleaming and defiant anymore, opened in shock, and his mouth contracted in the most terrible, unnatural way. That was when Éponine noticed Cosette, right behind Montparnasse, and the knife she had just thrust through his torso. Blood was pooling and tainting Montparnasse’s dark suit, his stance weakening and his eyes moving frantically, unable to find Cosette.

“Well, now” she said, with a sweet, calm voice “I think we might have to re-arrange those plans of yours”

* * *

Enjolras felt like he was drowning. He was submerged in screams of pain, shouts of warning, blows received by him and attacks made towards others. War was a lot like a dream, a terrible one: things didn’t make sense, every movement was frantic and air seemed to be an illusion. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t concentrate on a task for more than a split second, because that’s all it could take for his life to end, or worse, for a friend of his to disappear.

He noticed the man in between one of those seconds. If he had paid more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have seen him, as he hadn’t seen him ever before. It was as if he hid between glances, and Enjolras had caught him there. He was dressed as an inmate, but he was clearly older than them all. He didn’t look like a guard either, he should have known him by then if he was. But, no matter who he was, what he was doing was more important.

The man was walking closer to the end of the line of inmates that Courfeyrac was carrying through the barricade. Marius and Grantaire were far ahead, closer to Courfeyrac, and nobody was watching them. Only this man was.

He had a gun with him, and it wasn’t a weapon they used inside the Institute. It wasn’t a teaser gun, an electroshock device or a tranquilizer dart machine; it wasn’t one of the state of the art guns they used when they wanted to terminate somebody, like they had with Delphine, what seemed like ages before. It was an old, battered, used gun that seemed as somber and as dismissible as the man himself. And he was pointing it at one of the inmates.

Enjolras wouldn’t be able to describe, if he lived to tell it, how he made the connection so fast. How he could sense exactly what the man was there to do. Maybe it was the chaos of the moment that whispered about how chaos could be grater, maybe it was how Dr. Philippe had told him that what made them human made them powerful. And what would be more human than reckless fools turning against each other? What could bring more chaos?

Enjolras moved towards him, but thought he wasn’t going to reach him. There were too many guards between them, and he was a beacon of light that couldn’t be unseen. If he knocked him down, he could retaliate against him. If he was seen attacking him, inmates would think he could target them too. He had to settle it between them. He ditched an attack and ran towards him, hoping the mess of bodies would be too much for guards to know. One came towards him, though, he could see him in his peripheral vision, but chose to ignore it. He had to be fast.

He heard the blow and knew someone had intercepted the guard, but didn’t stop to look.

“Combeferre!” he heard Bahorel’s voice, who had probably been the one to assist him “Follow him!”

Enjolras continued, knowing that Combeferre and Bahorel would be watching his back. He ignored whether they knew what he was trying to accomplish, but thanked their trust silently.

He pushed the man to the ground as he was shooting. The sound of the gunshot resounded so close to Enjolras’s ears that it muffled all noise around him for a couple of seconds. He felt as if he was going underwater, and he remembered the bathtub in confinement, how while submerging in it, all the sounds disappeared around him, all but his heartbeat. When he could focus again, he breathed out, as if he had been truly underwater; his life waking from a pause, like an oasis of nothingness in the middle of chaos.

The shot hurt the man’s leg. It got buried on his skin and he cried out in pain. Enjolras stood up, defiant, as Combeferre arrived where he was. They had landed in a corner of the building, surrounded by pieces of rubble and broken barricade materials that Bahorel had thrown in the attempt of keeping guards at bay.

“Who are you?” Enjolras asked “What do you want?”

“I don’t matter” he smiled “you know what I want”

Chaos. Fear. Enjolras frowned, rage taking over him.

“Why? Why would you do this?” his voice escaped him as his light did “We can help you, we can give you a way out, we are doing this for everybody…”

“I’m not one of you” the man simply said “I’m here to keep you in, I always was” he smiled with satisfaction at Enjolras’s surprise “Watching the flock. Observing the sheep. I am a shepherd”

His words were bizarre in the midst of danger and his metaphors felt cruel to Enjolras, when death was so literal, when war was swallowing them whole.

“You come from outside?” Enjolras lighted his hand, his aura burning with rage, and took the man by his collar “Who do you work for?”

But the man wasn’t scared. And he wasn’t afraid of telling him where his loyalty laid. He was proud.

“The Underground Force made me and for them I will die”

It wasn’t a possibility. He didn’t word it as if it were a mere chance, he was accepting it. Proudly. If Enjolras let him go, he would still try to turn them against each other. But Enjolras couldn’t just…kill him. It would be an execution. He turned to Combeferre, pleading for help. Surely, Combeferre, logical, _peaceful_ Combeferre, would have an idea, he would know what to do, he would think of something else…

But what he found in Combeferre’s eyes was everything but what he was hoping for. There was a silenced sentence in his eyes, sad, defeated, almost apologetic. As if he felt guilty for not being able to offer him a way out. There was killing and dying in war, and this was the part of the killing. The part he feared the most.

Enjolras had been attacking guards until then, he had attacked as strongly as he had to, but the adrenaline of the moment was blinding, and the immediacy of their own attacks drowned his thoughts. This was _not_ like that. This was a silent execution, this was taking the life of someone knowingly, acceptingly. He couldn’t do it.

“You’re trying to play soldier and you can’t even understand the burden of war” the man laughed and Enjolras let him go, saw him fall to the ground with his wounded leg, the laughter never ceasing.

Then, they heard it. The sound of a communicating device, somewhere close. The man stopped laughing abruptly, and Enjolras understood it was his. But Combeferre found it first, lying on the ground, between the rubble.

 _“Claquesous?”_ the voice was rushed, as if in pain _“Where are you?”_

“Your friend can’t answer right now” Combeferre said, his voice more confident than they both really felt.

 _“Combeferre?”_ another voice cut through the conversation _“Is that you?”_

“Éponine?” Combeferre answered, surprise and relief tainting his features “Are you alright?”

 _“We’re fine!”_ Éponine’s tone was categorical, more important things needed to be said _“Did you catch the guy who had this device?”_

“Yes, he’s here” Combeferre continued.

 _“Alive?”_ she inquired, rushed.

“Yes” Combeferre assured.

 _“He can’t be”_ Éponine stated  _“This guy doesn’t just walk away from duty, it’s his name that’s in danger and he’d do whatever to keep you guys in or help others intercept you out here”_ she sighed _“He has been monitoring you for months, providing information to the Underground Force…they knew you were coming, they were hoping to find you out here…Combeferre, we’ll deal with the ones we have out here, we can get away with…convincing them…but that guy in there…he’s different”_

“Different how, Éponine?” Combeferre frowned, visibly worried.

 _“He has orders: keep them in or die trying. If he gets out without you…they’ll end him themselves”_ Éponine made a pause, as if gathering her words carefully _“The man with you was trained, like I used to be, to disappear, to be a shadow of a man and do a job. He’s not like these ones out here he…he won’t stop”_

Enjolras looked at the man and he looked back, smiling. It didn’t matter how many reasons Éponine gave or how prepared to die the man was, Enjolras couldn’t deal with the idea of executing him. He had said it, swore it: he was going to fight. But one thing was fighting, as equals, another one, a very different one, was taking advantage of someone who could hardly defend himself, who would stay there and let him end his life. It was like what Dr. Philippe was doing to them.

“Enjolras” Combeferre almost whispered.

It was only then that he realized he was visibly shaking. He looked at his own hands, trembling and fading, as his light diminished. Was this a burden he had to carry? Turning into _them_? Using his power to kill, like he had been designed to do? He closed his eyes in desperation and clenched his fists, trying to calm the panic that was rushing through him. He could make out Combeferre’s voice talking to Éponine, but he couldn’t make out the words. War continued around him and he knew he had to act, he had to do something…

“He told me you’d do this” a knowing smile spread over the man’s features “He assured me you would accept your worth. He promised me I’d be more helpful, more useful than anyone, _even Montpanasse_ …that I’d die in glory”

Enjolras opened his eyes and looked at him, panic blurring his vision.

“Who?” he breathed out, although he feared the answer.

“The doctor” the man talked with pride “The doctor said that if you found me, I’d be rewarded with glory…because I’d help him the most” he laughed “Because I’d serve to make you accept what you really are…” he smirked, sufficiently “a _weapon_ ”

Enjolras felt like there was no air in the world anymore. Everything dissipated in front of his eyes and his hands, once strong and steady, were now quivering without light, without glow.

“Enjolras, listen to me” Combeferre’s voice cut through the emptiness and Enjolras couldn’t say how close or how far he was.

He felt like miles away. He felt like too far to help him out of where he was drowning.

“Enjolras, you’re not them, you’ll never be them” Combeferre cried out, and Enjolras wished he could believe him.

Because Enjolras didn’t fear death. He didn’t fear solitude. He didn’t fear darkness, pain or torture. Enjolras was afraid of hurting others, of using his powers to do what had been done to him. Enjolras was scared of becoming what he had been built to be. He had lived through anxious images speeding through his head in shapeless nightmares, being asleep and awake, in which he hurt strangers, in which he killed innocents and robbed them of their freedom, as much as he had been. When Enjolras was learning to use his abilities, when he was younger, he had dealt with the kind of anxiety that crippled your soul and left you breathless, a mess of limbs unable to move or to breathe, not wanting to touch anyone, afraid of hurting them. He had never told anyone, not even Grantaire on that night they spent together, that the only reason he was able to do what they had shared was because he _had no powers_. He couldn’t say it, he had never been able to say it, afraid of it becoming real the very moment he did. His anxiety had gotten controllable through the years, but those words, that certainty on his nature on that man’s lips, had brought everything back. The nightmares, the fear, the pain.

“Enjolras, please” Combeferre’s voice seemed closer, but he could barely see him, his eyes were blurry but he didn’t remember starting to cry.

“What a shame of a weapon you are” the man laughed.

 _“What’s happening?”_ Éponine’s voice sounded muffled, distant.

“We’ll take care of this, please be careful out there” Combeferre answered.

 _“Same to you”_ was the last Enjolras could hear from her.

He covered his face with his hands, his body trembling and weak. He was _so_ weak. How had he thought he could do this when he couldn’t even…

“Listen to me, Enjolras, _please_ ” Combeferre’s voice was closer again “Our sacrifice here will be greater than our mere lives, this is something we’re going to be faced with” he sighed “I thought you understood, I…I knew how you felt but I thought that if I didn’t bring it up…I’m sorry, Enjolras…but, at least, I can do _this_ for you”

Enjolras saw him then. Picking up the gun from the ground. Pointing it at the man. Combeferre, logical, _peaceful_ Combeferre, about to execute a man for them, for _him_.

Enjolras’s body moved before his mind could stop him. He placed his right hand, a warm, slightly glowing hand, over Combeferre’s. The same hand he had held with Grantaire to start all that mess. The same hand he had bid him farewell with. The same he had shaken with Marius to thank him for his help.

“I’ll do it” he sentenced.

He didn’t have the energy to feign confidence when he didn’t have it. He had never been a good liar, nor he ever wanted to be. He didn’t want to do it, and he was sure his life, how much of it remained, was going to be forever tainted with what he was about to do. But that was a burden he was not going to pass on to Combeferre.

He knew his aim was not going to be good, because he was shaking like a leaf, but he wasn’t going to use his powers for this. He stepped closer and put the barrel on the man’s forehead. He had a smile on his face and his eyes were glowing with pride. Enjolras was the one who was crying for the man’s life, mourning him even before he was gone.

When he pushed the trigger and the blood spattered his uniform, Enjolras didn’t understand what Dr. Philippe had wanted him to, as the man had assured. He didn’t see himself as a weapon, he felt more _human_ , broken and damaged than he had ever felt. 

* * *

Grantaire didn’t remember ever feeling so scared in the darkness. It had always been his refuge, his solitary escapade from reality. But he wasn’t alone anymore. He was walking with the inmates that Courfeyrac had let to the barricade, gobbled down by his own darkness, which they used to protect themselves from any possible accident that the instability of the makeshift tunnel could lead to. Marius was walking ahead of them, with the intention of distracting whichever policeman or curious passerby, using his tag to convince them of his authority.  

Yes, his darkness had always been his refuge, but being someone else’s shield was much more responsibility than he had ever looked for. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, he did, but what if things went wrong? What if he couldn’t protect them all? What if…

The little girl who was holding Courfeyrac’s hand smiled at him though missing teeth and he sighed. There was no time for ‘what ifs’. There was no time to be scared.

The barricade that had been built was impressive, especially taking into account the reduced time-frame they had to build it, but Grantaire didn’t doubt his friends’ abilities. With Combeferre’s mind serving as a blueprint, they had constructed it to serve both as an obstacle towards the gate as well as a tunnel for them to pass through. If they were followed, at least the narrow space of the small pathway would give them an advantage to attack. Bahorel had suggested that the best way to fight a numerous group of enemies was to use a corridor to make them come one at a time and, with that in mind, Combeferre’s memory served to figure out a way of generating what they needed with the materials they could gather and in the time they had. Bahorel’s strength, Feuilly’s teleportation abilities and Jehan’s transmutation powers served to aid them. On the other side, the gate had been opened when the power had ceased, teared off easily by Bahorel’s hands, and Garvoche was to wait there, outside the Institute, to guide them through the streets towards Éponine and Cosette.

Things had gone smoothly, and that terrified Grantaire. Yes, they had fought guards before they entered and some of them, along with several inmates, had been hurt in the process; because the guards had started to become desperate, and the orders which commanded them not to hurt the worthy assets were starting to shift. But so far, everything was going well. And if there was something Grantaire was suspicious of, that was silence. Calmness. In the middle of war. Tranquility felt like the eye of the storm and Grantaire feared that, on the other side of the tunnel, the worst of it awaited.

“I’ll exit first and fetch Gavroche” Courfeyrac assured “I’ll be right back”

He seemed ready to step towards the light, he had never been fond of the darkness, and his emotional integrity was very necessary for their endeavor. Grantaire nodded and stayed behind, while Marius hovered around the exit. He could see in the young man’s expression that he was as suspicious of the situation as he was. Grantaire would have liked to talk to him, to let him know he was nervous too, scared out of his mind, actually, but he was afraid that saying it out loud would disrupt the inmates, who were grasping for security because their lives depended on it.

He was so immerse in those thoughts that he almost missed the little girl. Marius noticed her late, too, as she ran through the exit towards the light, calling for Courfeyrac, whose hand she had been holding minutes before.

A shriek was heard immediately afterwards, and Marius ran, glancing back at Grantaire to silently ask for him to stay put, to hold the others…

Some of the older inmates tried to step away, to help, to find the girl and Courfeyrac and exit the damn gate and the pressing darkness once and for all, but Grantaire moved towards the hole and blocked it with his body, his back to the inmates and his face towards the gate.

“Stay here!” he commanded, with an authority he didn’t really possess, and searched for his friends with his eyes, frantically, until he found them.

Two guards were there, beaten up and tired-looking, who may have been able to outrun them through the tunnel to wait for them outside. They were holding both Gavroche and Courfeyrac and aiming guns at their heads, shiny guns which seemed unused, the same that had killed Delphine. Two young guards, as young as they were, who had never killed a soul but were prepared to begin on that day. Just as they were.

Marius stared at them defiantly with the little girl hiding behind him. She turned around, desperation in her blurry eyes, and when she found Grantaire, she ran towards him. The sudden movement made the guards nervous, scared as they were of those mutants with powers they didn’t understand, scared enough to shoot at sight.

Grantaire’s body was faster than his shield. He hugged her, and the bullet buried in his arm, the pain stinging him and burning him. She cried for him, holding Grantaire as if she was bleeding herself, and Grantaire held her tiny, chubby body back, with fear latent in his heart.

Marius unfolded his gun and turned towards the guard, shaking visibly, while the man was still aiming at the girl. Garvoche, who the man was holding, shrunk down, giving Marius even more space to shoot, enough for his shaking hands, and in a heartbeat, he had pierced the man’s shoulder.

Gavroche escaped his hold, while Courfeyrac was able to use the confusion to move away, but the guard previously holding him fired, and the bullet pierced the back of his thigh. Courfeyrac fell at the guard’s feet with a cry of pain.

Marius shot the guard who was hovering over Courfeyrac. He aimed at the chest and fired once, twice, three times, his hands both holding the weapon and his pulse quivering with fear. The guard fell, his limp and lifeless body, tainted in red, covered Courfeyrac’s, who was still unable to move. The other guard turned to Marius, fear and confusion over his features, his hold on the gun as quivering as Marius’s own, because he had to use the arm that hadn’t been damaged.

The guard’s eyes lost life in a split second, a bullet hole piercing his heart from his back, tainting his shirt, and the man fell to his feet. Behind him was young Gavroche, tears in his eyes but with a steady grasp on the gun that he had silently stolen from the man Courfeyrac was trying to remove from his mess of limbs with difficulty, his own leg bleeding through his pants and tainting the floor. Mixing with the other man’s blood, as if it was from the same being.

They would all be the same if they died, after all.

* * *

Jehan lied on the ground, mesmerized by the drops of blood that were falling from his head. In the midst of the fight, he could still get hypnotized by how nature worked, by how the world turned under them despite what they expected of it, by how life and death could be so close and so apart at the same time. He had never felt one or the other, alive or dead, man or woman, good or bad. He knew he wasn’t the only one, that Bahorel had been in turmoil with his identity for a very long time and that Enjolras had always taken pride rather than shame on being difficult to categorize when it came to it. Jehan had always wished for a world where they could express themselves outside the identification cards, where their identity could be an experience rather than a way to easily categorize them for medical experiments, examinations that required a certain chromosome test, a particular DNA sample, a specific physical trial. Jehan knew that their freedom meant more than the destruction of physical barriers which didn’t allow them to escape, because they were trapped in more ways than one. But they were tired. They were falling. And the others never stopped coming.

When a guard fell, two more came to replace them. The situation with the computer hadn’t been dealt successfully yet, and that was keeping interns and attendants inside, but the guards were another thing. The more they took to repair connections with the outside world, the more scared the doctors got, and the forces to stop them hadn’t only been duplicated, they had changed directions. Jehan wasn’t naïve, he knew that the reason they had been resisting wasn’t just their power but the fact that the guards were asked not to harm them permanently, they were precious specimens and if they lost them all at the same time, decades of work would be thrown away.

But as minutes passed and power wasn’t re-established, as the fight went on and the inmates started disappearing, desperation started taking a toll on them. The no-harming order changed and attacks became clearer. More certain. More dangerous.

A blow to the head had let Jehan on the ground, blood dripping from his scalp and he felt too exhausted to stand back up. His power required his words and he had been using a pen to write on his own body the weapons we needed, the shields he could gather, what his friends required. His frail arms were filled with black ink and words that meshed into each other, like temporary tattoos reminding him of the fight. The pen had been thrown away in the last blow and a guard, hovering over him, stepped on it and broke it in half. He looked at Jehan with fear in his eyes, disgust and uncertainty tainting his features as he looked at the frail kid with the words over his skin and blood on his head. He aimed a gun at him and Jehan noticed, for the first time, that they weren’t using the other stuff anymore. They were done with the teasers and the needles, they were prepared to finish it now. They were getting desperate, frightened, and it was time to end it all.

Jehan’s power required his words and the guard had mistaken them with an instrument to create them. As the man prepared to shoot, Jehan used the blood pooling on the ground, his own, to write a word to change both their fates forever. The spike came from the ground, right underneath the man, impaling him in a way that Jehan had only seen in horror stories. He shut his eyes and the blood from the man mixed with his own and tears streamed down his face as he lost the last vestige of consciousness he had left. Jehan had never killed someone before. And the terror of it was one of the few things he would never be able to put into words. 

* * *

Enjolras knew it was time. He hoped that Courfeyrac, Marius and Grantaire had exited successfully, because it was their turn to leave. They couldn’t stand it for much longer, not at the rhythm they were fighting, and not when guns started to be drawn.

He turned and saw Combeferre, who looked at him in turn. He seemed about to say something, but couldn’t. Blood started dripping from his nose and Enjolras looked at him, horrified. Combeferre had used his powers to exhaustion and his brain couldn’t take it anymore. He was falling apart.

He walked one step towards him but a guard got there first. The shot got buried in Combeferre’s lower chest, and he fell to the ground, knees first, never losing sight of Enjolras.

“COMBEFERRE!” Enjolras’s cry was piercing as he used a blow of light to push the guard aside, with all the might he had.

He ran towards Combeferre and found him still breathing, gasping, unable to speak. They didn’t have enough time.

“Feuilly!” Enjolras cried out and his friend was there in a split second.

“Oh my god...” Feuilly whispered upon seeing Combeferre’s body.

“You need to take them out, right now” Enjolras pleaded “Take ‘Ferre and Jehan first, then come back for Joly and Bossuet, Cosette’s father and Bahorel will continue”

“What about you?” Feuilly looked at him frowning.

The ‘don’t be an idiot, Enjolras’ was implicit in his tone. Enjolras smiled.

“Leave me for last” Enjolras grabbed Feuilly’s hand and grasped it “I have an idea”

* * *

Cosette was terrified. The knife had entered Montparnasse’s body with seeming ease, but she was extremely unsure of the outcome. Yes, her father had taught her how to defend herself against attackers, how to use knives and other weapons that may come in handy, he had given her the one she was using, for protection, she was theoretically prepared for occurrences such as the one she was in. However, the only things she had sliced in her entire lifetime were cooking ingredients, and stabbing a man was an entirely different thing.

But, if this man was like Éponine had described, the only way to handle him would be showing him she wasn’t kidding around. And the thought of her papa inside that place was enough to give her the willpower to continue.

“Now, I hope we’ve understood each other” she twisted the knife and he squirmed, gasping.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” he asked, in between breaths.

“At this point, dear, you have no other choice” she smiled, as sweetly as she could, and the fear in his eyes told her she was doing things right.

“If we leave, you’ll heal me?” he seemed dubious.

Cosette had already explained him the terms of the deal, she had even demonstrated her abilities by maintaining him alive despite the knife. But Montparnasse was still suspicious. He couldn’t understand why, after they had used him to communicate with the Institute, they’d still let him live. The truth was that Cosette was unable to kill a human being. But that response wouldn’t keep them safe.

“I have no use of you dead, dear” she explained patiently, sweetly.

Cosette had learned throughout her life that being respectful confused people, especially those who were unaccustomed to kindness. Even if the respect was being used while stabbing someone with a knife.

“We need you to go out there, tell your friends to scatter and also communicate this to the Underground Force” Cosette smiled “Explain the situation with your own eloquent terms”

“What…situation?” Montparnasse gasped.

Cosette got closer, her voice almost a whisper, one that could have been reassuring, if it weren’t for its context.

“That the ‘kids’ you’re after are not alone” she twisted the knife slightly and heard the man whimper “That they will _never_ be alone and if you try to look for them…well, there will be consequences” she dropped her smile and glared at him with all the anger she had been holding, for her mother, for her father, for Marius, for Éponine and for all those young kids fighting out there “And, as the bright young man you are, you’re well aware what those consequences would entail, aren’t you?”

Montparnasse’s response was a nod, a glare that had wrath mixed with fear in it. It was enough for Cosette.

She guided him towards his friends and saw Marius approaching not too far from where they were standing. He was helping an inmate whose leg seemed wounded and another one was close by, with a bleeding arm and a little girl on his other hand. A group of inmates, like ghosts that looked extremely different but were bearing the same pale uniforms, advanced behind them.

Cosette let Montparnasse fall to the ground and kneeled beside him to heal him, yet the knife never left her hand, reminding him of the fact that she was in control. That she could save him and doom him with the same ease.

“I hope we’ve understood each other” Cosette told him when she finished healing him.

He had been more damaged than she’d initially intended and she was thankful it hadn’t been as bad as it could have. She really didn’t want to kill anyone, but it was better for him not to know that.

Montparnasse glared at her but didn’t respond. He turned to his comrades, who had been too afraid to move (Cosette wasn’t sure whether they had been afraid of her or of Montparnasse, though) and with a silent nod, he took them away with him, not looking back.

“Did you…” Marius’s voice was suddenly closer, as the group approached them “Were you stabbing that guy?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

“It’s a long story” Cosette wiped her brow, able to breathe with ease again.

She felt as if she had been holding her breath the whole time she had been holding that knife. Inside someone’s body. She wanted to throw up.

“Marius, would you mind terribly if I kissed your girlfriend?” Éponine asked, tilting Cosette’s chin up and looking at her in the eyes.

“If you _what_?” Marius responded, tired and confused. 

“You’re a fucking badass girl, did you know that?” Éponine said, smiling.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt…whatever the fuck is going on here” the young man who was holding the little girl’s hand said “But I have a goddam bullet in my arm and Courfeyrac has a bleeding leg and some of these kids are not in top shape either”

“I’ll help you out, let’s get in the van” Cosette answered, determined.

* * *

Enjolras had harvested the idea he was about to unfold for a long time. It was his last resort, and he had always considered it such. He knew that making it happen was more risky for himself than for the doctors and guards, which was why he had kept it a secret from his friends. They were never going to accept a sacrifice. But he knew it was the only way he could stop it, for good.

He ran through the halls once more, but the place wasn’t what it used to. He had thought that the guards that remained inside were going to turn to him, apprehend him at sight. But most of them didn’t. They were held back by doctors who remained hidden, who used them for protection. From him. They looked at Enjolras with fear…fear and something akin to guilt. As if they were waiting for a judgment that was sure to come. But Enjolras wasn’t there to impart judgment. He was to be judged as well, for what he was about to do.

He first went to every designated hiding spot they had facilitated for inmates who hadn’t chosen to fight. He didn’t have time to explain things, but he tried to convey his message with authority. He gathered each group and joined them, all of them following him silently. They understood, as soon as they stepped outside and saw the rubble and the chaos on the yard, that their present was not going to remain untainted. That things were changing, whether they liked it or not. Enjolras had never wanted to impose a future onto others, but as Combeferre had said, they were going to leave a lot of things in this war, and some of those could very well be perspectives.

The inmates were as scared of Enjolras as the doctors were, especially because they saw how those doctors regarded him. How guards weren’t defying him and, if they were, they got knocked over easily with Enjolras’s power. Back in the courtyard, Feuilly was taking people out, and Cosette’s father was the only one defending the barricade without stopping. But that man was enough to defeat a whole army, Enjolras had noticed that while fighting alongside him. He didn’t only have strength, he had _experience_. Enjolras would have liked to know his story. Enjolras would have liked to know everyone’s story, because they all deserved that, at least, but it was too late.

He guided the group of inmates, who were carrying the weapons Courfeyrac had given them, to the garage. The vans laid unused, since the lack of power had trapped the doctors, whose orders had been to contain first and deal with the emprisonment later. Enjolras handed one of the inmates the key of a van. He almost smiled at the irony, how everything had begun with a van and it was to finish the same way. They key had been stolen for them to use as a last option to escape, in case Feuilly got wounded, the barricade got destroyed or something else let them without options. What was about to happen, though, had only been in Enjolras’s thoughts.  

“Take this key” he said to a girl, taller than him but with eyes much younger “Drive this van through that tunnel there, it doesn’t matter if the whole thing crumbles down after you, just keep driving until you reach the other side”

“What’s on the other side?” she asked, hesitant.

“An open gate” Enjolras answered, as if it was the most valuable promise in the world.

And, to them, it was.

“You’ll find my friends not too far from there, they’ll be watching and waiting for me, they’ll see you” he smiled, reassuringly.

“What about you?” she asked.

Her hand was shaking but she was grasping the key with all the strength she had left.

“I have other things to take care of”

He saw her hesitation, the responsibility of what she was about to do heavy on her shoulders.

"What's your name?" he asked.

She looked at him with less fear then, and he recognized her. She had worked shifts in the cafeteria many times, behaving well so they'd treat her better. But it never happened, and she seemed tired of it. Tired, yet ready to fight.

"Louison" she answered, her identity giving her strength. 

“You can do it, Louison, I’m certain of it” he smiled "Make them pay for those hours you had to serve them portions you'd never get to eat, hoping for some retribution that never came" he wished he could have Courfeyrac’s power to infect others with trust.

When the girl nodded, a smile on her face, thankful and resolved, he felt that maybe he did.

* * *

Things were as chaotic outside as they had been inside. Yes, no one was trying to hurt them, but the loss of adrenaline left them with all their fears exposed, sweating through their skin, running through their tears, infecting their blood. And Grantaire understood that there was little to nothing Courfeyrac could do to control them all when Jehan was bleeding in his arms.

Cosette was like a chubby cherub, with the strength of an amazon, the sensitivity of a midwife and the powers of a saint. She had attended Combeferre first, because Combeferre was on his way to the other side when he arrived. Éponine, who Grantaire regarded as a stealthy soldier with a young face but the eyes of someone who had lived many lifetimes, had held him the whole time. She seemed distraught, yes, but she didn’t cry. They had to keep the composure, as much as they were able, for the kids to be as calm as possible, under the circumstances.

But Courfeyrac couldn’t stop whimpering. Because Combeferre was dying. Because Jehan wouldn’t wake up. Because Enjolras was still inside.

Grantaire insisted that Cosette took care of everyone before himself. And yes, it was in part because he wanted everyone to calm down and be taken care of, but it also was because the pain distracted him. Because _Enjolras was still inside_ and time was running fast, and his friends were all arriving and Enjolras was going to end up alone inside that place with all those people trying to kill him…

“It’s your turn, finally” Cosette turned to him and inspected his arm.

She had tools to help her remove the bullets, stitch some wounds, complement her powers with whatever she needed. Grantaire wondered if she had learned all those things last minute before they had embarked her in the worst plan of the century, or if she had really wanted to be a nurse or a doctor. Her dad was a doctor, after all. Her dad who was also still inside. And she seemed as preoccupied with it as Grantaire was with Enjolras being there.

But they were going to arrive with Feuilly any minute, that was certain. Feuilly had brought Bahorel last, pleading with tears in his eyes for Cosette to assist as soon as possible, and had gone to the gates to wait for the van that was probably going to be Enjolras’s escape plan. Thank god they’d thought of the van.

“You have someone still in there too, right?” she murmured, as his arm was healed underneath the comforting warmth of her hands “Enjolras? Courfeyrac mentioned him a lot”

“Yes” Grantaire wanted to say more, but he couldn’t.

He didn’t want to find the words for it, he didn’t want to think about it. About _Enjolras being still inside_.

“We won’t let them alone” Cosette said, determined “I promise”

A vehicle was then heard close by, stopping right beside theirs. The van. Enjolras had to be in it.

Feuilly entered their vehicle, exhausted, and Grantaire thought he was going to pass out. They would have been lost without Feuilly. Grantaire saw him check on Bahorel first, because the last time they had entered, Bahorel was barely breathing. He sighed, relieved, but still clearly on edge, as he walked towards where Cosette was finishing with Grantaire’s arm, and looked at both of them with a mixture of sadness and desperation.

“Enjolras and your father weren’t in the van” he sentenced.

Grantaire felt that, somewhere in his heart, he had already known, even before he said so, ever since that day they freed the last van, as he asked himself why he was there. _Enjolras was still inside_. Enjolras was going to _sacrifice himself for them_.

“If I help you restore your energy and heal you…” Cosette said to Feuilly, with the most confident eyes Grantaire had ever seen “could you take us inside?” she concluded, grabbing Grantaire’s hand.

The hand he had held with Enjolras to start that whole hell. The hell that had trapped Enjolras and wouldn’t let him go.

* * *

There were five laboratories in the entire facility. All of them were underground. They had highly dangerous materials, but that was not the reason they were underground, hidden from view. It was because many of them were of illegal use; and some of the guards working for the institution still believed, despite all, that they were doing a work of justice. Like Javert did.  

There was a reason they were five, Combeferre had explained: to use the whole surface of the Institute to locate them, administrating as much territory of it as possible at the same time. There was one in each corner and one in the center, and they were big enough to hold several groups of inmates at a time. Efficient, quick treatment. Efficient, quick control.

This information was something Enjolras had treasured for as long as Combeferre had confided it in him. Inmates weren’t taken to all five labs, each one had a designated post, but Combeferre had figured out the design regardless: five labs underground, one in each corner and one in the center. With different chemicals, of questionable legality. Most of which were, after all, inflammable.

Enjolras ran though the deserted underground halls, every attending hiding upstairs, where they were safe…where they thought they were safe. He hoped he could get to all of them in time. He hoped he could blow them all up before the building started falling over him. Crumbling down to pieces, unable to be used anymore, and no computer was to help them build it back up again.

And when they investigated it, when the town finally realized something was going on inside that place, when the whole thing fell down and neighbors asked questions and officers came to see what had happened, they’d notice the chemicals that had caused the entire damage. The illegal, unauthorized chemicals. And maybe that way, someone would finally start caring. The building had to fall, even if it took Enjolras down with it.

The first lab he encountered was closed. He used his power to melt the protective glass and found out he was able to do it with ease. The fact that he had never tried it before, he had never considered doing it even, reminded him of the hold they had on them, on their heads and not only on their bodies. They had always been able to fight back, they were just too scared.

The chemicals were stored in a closet-sized refrigerator, stacked in organized and labeled vials, some with written names and others with codes. Enjolras gathered his energy on his hands and shot.

The blast was much greater than he had anticipated. He was thrown by the force of the explosion, falling on his back, and his face felt the scorching heat of the bright fire that released thick black smoke which threatened to gobble him up. He couldn’t breathe that in.

He let the pyre do its job and continued towards another, then another, then another. Never stopping to see the result. Never thinking it over, with fear that doing it might halt him.

The fire spread fast, releasing smoke that dispersed throughout the halls like water drowning a sinking ship. Enjolras left the lab closest to the stairs for last, so he could run away through it, but his vision was getting blurry and breathing was almost impossible. He felt his throat dry, his body was itching and his feet could barely carry him anymore.

The last blow was weaker than the rest, but was enough. The fire would take care of the rest. He ran through the stairs and was barely able to exit the halls towards the yard when the walls started faltering. He was thinking about how to get to his friends when the piece of masonry fell over him. The last thing he saw was the sky.

* * *

The building had started falling apart when they got there. There was smoke and fire coming from underneath and the walls were starting to give up, as the foundation started dissipating. There was a pair of choppers picking up doctors from the ceiling, and Grantaire could recognize Philippe even at that distance. He was the first in line. Of course he was.

“What the fuck happened?” Feuilly asked as he stared at the building “Where did this fire come from?”

Grantaire feared the answer that escaped his lips.

“It was Enjolras” he whispered, staring at the landscape.

Cosette’s father was easier to find. While guards and doctors hurried around to find ways to reach the choppers that didn’t imply entering the building, others were trying to climb the barricade, in order to get away from the imminent collapse of the building that was like an iceberg melting under the sun. The only two people who weren’t running  were Cosette’s father and Inspector Javert.

They were facing each other in the courtyard, Javert holding a gun and Dr. Madeleine standing in front of him, defiant yet unarmed.

“Papa!” Cosette’s voice cut through the eco of chaos and the man’s expression changed.

Despite the war taking place around them, despite the man pointing a gun at him, despite the things they’ve encountered up to that moment, Dr. Madeleine’s face showed fear only when he heard his daughter’s voice. Inside that hell hole.

“Papa, please, we need to go” Cosette ran to him and grabbed his arm, but the man’s eyes were fixed on Javert and he didn’t move.

Tears started running down Cosette’s face, her determination broken in front of Grantaire’s eyes, and he knew why: she could see in her father’s body language, in his eyes, in his stance, that he was not going anywhere. She knew that pleading wouldn’t change anything. Yet, she insisted.

“Papa, _please_ ” she cried “Don’t leave me”

He was everything she had, all the family she’d ever known. And he was there, living and breathing in front of them, yet it seemed like death was holding him and dragging him already and that nothing Cosette could say was to change that.

“A friend of theirs is trapped not too far from here” he sentenced, his eyes never leaving Javert “I couldn’t go help him, but you can”

“Papa…” Cosette almost whispered.

“I’m sorry, Cosette” his tone was less severe, his eyes still away from her, as if he couldn’t look at her without breaking his resolve “My fate was sealed a long time ago…one day Marius will tell you my story”

“Marius?” she sobbed

“He’s a nice guy” he turned then, half smiling to her, but his eyes filled with sorrow “You better take care of him, and of the rest of them. I know you’re strong enough, Cosette, you were always _so strong_ , stronger than I ever was”

Tears streamed down her face and the shouts around them became silent to their ears, because the world was just made for them. A family that was saying goodbye.

“You saved my life, as you did your mother’s, because your strength comes from love, and there’s nothing more powerful than that” he took her face on his hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb, rubbing away a tear “Even if they don’t see it” he frowned at the building, slowly collapsing farther away from them “There’s something I need to do, and maybe one day you’ll understand, but I’m afraid this is goodbye for us, my little lark”

“I love you, papa” she said, but the words were mumbled in the sobs, muffled in his chest when she hugged him, her chubby face hidden between his arms and his lips kissing the top of her head.

As if she was just a little girl saying goodbye to her father in the school gates. As if he was to see her again soon. Yet he wasn’t.

He pushed her away first, turning to Javert and running towards him. The man began shooting as Grantaire, Feuilly and Cosette ran to find Enjolras and the shapes of the men got lost in the building. Grantaire assumed they were both going to go down with it. And it seemed that they had both accepted such fate a long time ago.

They knew they had to look closer to the building, around the rubble, beneath the masonry that was lying on the ground. And it would have taken forever, if it wasn’t for the glow.

Grantaire knew that glow, it was imprinted on his memories, it was the guiding light that had shown him the way so many times before.

“There!” he shouted at the faint light, coming from underneath some rocks.

Enjolras’s body was bruised and burned, explosion marks on his skin had left traces, like spider webs over his pale skin. His arm was trapped under a heavy piece of rubble, blood already dripping, and the damn thing was too heavy for them to lift. His eyes were covered in dust, he was coughing faintly and his breathing was too forced.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, his voice choked.

“Grantaire?” Grantaire’s heart skipped a beat when he heard Enjolras talking.

He had feared, upon seeing him lying on the ground, the ghost of the person he had seen last, that he had been too late. That his glow was the last thing he was going to see of him. Listening to him speak, calling his name, allowed him to breathe again.

“I should go pick ‘Rel, maybe we could…” Feuilly offered, his sentence in pieces while he stared at Enjolras, lying on the ground, and at the building whose flames threatened to swallow it whole.

“There’s no time and Bahorel is in no condition” Cosette said, her voice regained, her brain set in the task at hand.

“We can’t leave him!” Grantaire shouted, his voice sounding so foreign.

“We won’t” Cosette looked at him in the eyes and he could see her tears drying as his started flowing.

She turned to Enjolras then, pushing his curls away from his face, talking only to him.

“Enjolras, I need you to listen to me and I need you to please, _please_ stay completely awake” she asked “There is only one way to get you out right now and that is to amputate immediately”

Grantaire couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He must have heard it wrong, there was no way they could attempt something like that without resources, without a hospital, without an instrument to…

“Grantaire, we will need your help” Cosette’s voice brought him back to reality, but he couldn’t focus on her words “Marius told me what you two can do, you can channel his energy and contain it, focus it, that’s what we need”

“What?!” he shouted “This is insane, how could we…?”

“It’s this or he stays. And I think he wants to live, don’t you, Enjolras?” she asked him, her voice severe, prompting him to stay awake, to keep it together.

“Grantaire, if it’s too much I wouldn’t ask…” he murmured.

“Don’t come to me with your hero bullshit, Enjolras!” Grantaire shouted, tears running down his face in the most embarrassing way.

He felt as if they were kids, arguing in the halls of the Institute about some stupid thing or other.

“Of course I want you to live, asshole!” he screamed “But if I fuck up…I _always_ fuck things up, you know I do…” his tears were blurring the world before him like the watercolor of a present he wanted to escape “I can’t fuck up when it’s _your_ life…but what if I _do_ …” the last part was almost a whisper, a sob.

He wanted to be stronger. But he wasn’t. He had never been the strong one.

He felt Enjolras’s left hand, his fingers, still warm, still alive, caressing his. This wasn’t the hand he had held on that computer room, the hand he had held to destroy. That one was underneath a rock that could trap him forever. This hand, maybe wasn’t meant to destroy but to save.

“ _For fuck’s sake_ ,” he wiped his tears with the back of his hand “you better _live_ ”

Cosette used the communicating device they had taken with them to instruct Éponine on how to prepare the van for their arrival. She was firm in her words, as was Éponine, and he wished he could borrow a fraction of that confidence. They talked as if they had done it a million times, but Grantaire doubted they had ever even imagined it. He wished, for a hundredth time in his life, that he was someone who could dare to hope.

Cosette repositioned herself at Enjolras’s back, to reach the area they were to amputate and let him lean on her, providing him the only amount of comfort they could, under those damn circumstances. Grantaire was shaking, trying to breathe more evenly, trying to be the stable hand they needed to save Enjolras’s life. Feuilly kneeled close to Enjolras’s legs. As soon as that arm was detached, they had to vanish, and he had never teleported so many people together, but he was their only chance. They had to get to that van and drive where Marius and Mabeuf had agreed to take them for medical help. There were saline fluids to keep him alive in the van, and they were ready to treat some blood loss (Marius’s information on them had proved useful for that), but he would need a major transfusion as soon as possible, with or without Cosette’s help. Grantaire’s shirt had been ripped in order to make a tourniquet, which they had tied to Enjolras’s upper arm, to allow more pressure.

“We don’t have time so I’ll explain this as clearly as I can: there will be _a lot_ of bleeding, I can stop only so much and the tourniquet will help to some extent, but it will drive you to shock” her confidence was somewhat reassuring, but not enough to calm Grantaire’s nerves “I will use my energy to take care of the arteries that will be severed as you go, to stop the bleeding the more I can, but then you’ll have to saw off the bone, and I will contain the wound to avoid infection, which is threatening under these conditions” she looked at Grantaire, then at Enjolras again  “I need you to feel the bone under your pressure, make sure you’ve cut it and don’t stop, no matter what” she gave him a reassuring caress on the cheek, much like her father had done to her minutes before “I’ll contain as much of the pain as I can, because you need to be alert and conscious, but you’ll start feeling the symptoms of shock regardless, even if less severe. Since we can’t sew you, we’ll use your heat and my powers to cauterize the wound as much as we can, but that will mean there will be pain from the burning too. It won’t kill you, it won’t even make you pass out, because _I’ll help you_ , but your brain will make you believe that you could. And you need to go on regardless. You need to believe in us and in yourself”

Enjolras nodded, more determined than Grantaire could ever feel.  But there wasn’t even time to re-think the plan. It was this or letting the building collapse over them.

Grantaire held Enjolras’s hand like a life-line. As if he was the one who needed the strength. His power burned strong and the adrenaline of the moment woke him up, but the pain of the wound and the bleeding were already debilitating him. When Cosette used her powers, however, there was a change in his demeanor. He was more focused, less distracted by pain yet Cosette couldn’t do much for the blood loss. This had to work precisely, otherwise, there wasn’t much chance for Enjolras, not even out of there.

Out there, in the world he had fought so hard to see.

“Grantaire, guide him through the motion, use his power like a blade, contain it and make sure the cut is as clean as possible” Cosette instructed “Enjolras, you just keep your power going with the same force, don’t think about anything else, don’t worry about anything else, _we’ll take care of the rest_ ”

“But I could…” Enjolras sounded more confident, re-vitalized by Cosette’s healing abilities.

“When shock starts kicking in, I’ll be able to contain only so much, because I can lower your pain and cauterize the wound but I can’t give you blood, and your body will react to it, so just focus on the power on your hand and _nothing else_ ” she nodded to Grantaire “Ready?”

Grantaire was not ready. He would never be ready. If he lived to tell the story and remember that precise moment, he would still not feel ready to do what he was about to do. Cosette was giving Enjolras some sort of support by having him leaning on her, but it was up to Grantaire to guide his hand accordingly to make the incision. Grantaire thanked he had experience not only containing and guiding Enjolras’s power, but that he had also learned Enjolras’s process to handle it, back when he had helped Grantaire protect Gavroche through the vents. A lifetime ago. Grantaire knew how Enjolras’s light worked, he knew how to manage it and knew it could, theoretically, do the job. What he was worried about, though, was his own reliability. He had never been one to rely on, and Enjolras knew it. And now he deposited his life on him, as if he was worthy of that trust…

“Grantaire, I’m about to saw my own damn arm, so I’ll just say this once” Enjolras’s gaze pierced him “I’ve told you enough times that I trust you, that is how we made this happen” he nodded towards the building that was threatening to fall apart “It’s time for you to start trusting yourself too”

Cosette didn’t give him time to doubt. She counted to three and they began. Enjolras’s power was steady at first, but it didn’t last long. His skin was turning colder due to shock, his breath was rapid as was his pulse, and the only reason he wasn’t yet dizzy enough to pass out on them was Cosette. Between her abilities and Enjolras’s heat, they were able to cauterize the wound, but Enjolras’s handle on his power became erratic and it was up to Grantaire to channel it and steady it.

“You’re doing great honey, just stay with us, keep going” Cosette’s words were directed towards Enjolras, but Grantaire felt the encouragement also deposited on him, as their mess of hands severed Enjolras arm from his body, over the elbow and below the tourniquet Grantaire’s bloddy shirt had become.

The bone was another thing entirely. The bone was terrifying. It was when it became real to Grantaire, that it was unrepairable damage. Grantaire could feel it, underneath their combined powers, and started crying silently. Enjolras screamed and Cosette doubled her strength, sweat visible in her face. Enjolras’s pain made his power react, as if it was trying to defend him from a threat other than himself, so Grantaire found himself coping with more and more power, rather than less.

Grantaire was never going to forget any of it. But the blood and the pressure to the bone meant nothing, compared to Enjolras’s clammy hand in his, the weakness of his movement, his agitation and his cries of pain. Grantaire couldn’t see how something so painful could actually save his life.

After the bone was severed, the rest was done in a quicker pace, since Enjolras’s power was still reacting to the pain. Grantaire had to contain it more and more each time, hoping it wouldn’t set itself free, because it could hurt them all. Grantaire hadn’t actually witnessed how powerful Enjolras could be until then. Why Philippe had wanted him on his side so badly.

As soon as Enjolras was allowed to let go of his power, as soon as it was up to Cosette and Feuilly, Enjolras gave into the dizziness and the pain, his stare got lost, as if it was moving further away from them, to a place they could not follow.

They all held him so Feuilly could transport them, and the rest was a blur to Grantaire. The rest was probably a blur to them all, except to Cosette, who had no time to waste, and as soon as they landed inside the van, which had been prepared as she had instructed, she asked for saline fluids, needles, blood and other stuff Grantaire couldn’t make out from the puddle of noises.

He didn’t leave Enjolras’s side at any moment. He needed to know his pulse was there. He didn’t even look out the window, as both vehicles started moving through the city. He didn’t even look through the window when he heard the building finally gave in and fell to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn this was difficult to write. I love action sequences but they're a pain in the butt for me. I hope this wasn't boring to you and I apologize for the violence, but I felt like taming it down even more would be extremely unralistic for this particular story. 
> 
> As I advanced in this story I felt more and more the lack of representation in this fic, but it was incredibly complicated to work it through with this story. I tried to introduce the possibility for when they reach their freedom at last. Still, it's not a matter that can be thrown into a story as an afterthought, so I can't attempt to make it happen without being incredibly disrespectful with the subject, but I wanted to show the situation in Jehan's part. 
> 
> Another note I need to make has to do with the amputation scene. I researched and read and planned it out the more I could, and I tried my best to make it as believeable as possible under the circumstances (people with special abilities that can aid in it, I mean). Still, if you feel the need to call me out on something, you're welcome to do so. 
> 
> As I said, the epilogue is coming next and we'll be done with this. I'm sorry I dragged it for so long, I don't even know if there's someone out there still interested in it, but I'd feel terrible if I'd let this incomplete, after it's been such a big part of my life for so long. Thank you all for reading and have an amazing day!


	9. We fought hard not to die, yet we don’t know how to live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The loss of the Institute felt like another phantom limb, exuding pain and hurting him, even when it wasn’t there anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, this is the end. It's been almost two years (TWO YEARS!) since I started uploading this fic. I'm gonna reserve the end notes to all the emotional/personal stuff and use this one for trigger warnings, which are very important: there's mentions and descriptions of situations regarding anxiety, depression, neurotic guilt and shame, phantom pain, amputation references (from the previous chapter) and other emotional and physical consequences of surviving everything that has happened in the previous chapters. The title for this Epilogue is from Emilie Autumn's song "One Foot in Front of the Other".

It took too long for Enjolras to get used to the loss of his arm. It took even longer for him to get used to a new one, made of metal, wires and pieces of machinery he couldn’t even pronounce. It was incredibly painful, the phantom limb, and Musichetta said it was important for him to work through that before getting the mechanical one. Even if he felt like it was killing him slowly.

It hurt and it was dreadful and it sucked. But Enjolras didn’t complain as much as Musichetta had expected, so she congratulated him every time. Even if she knew the reason well enough, neither of them said it aloud. That he used the pain to try to forget how what they had done had changed almost nothing at all.

The loss of the Institute felt like another phantom limb, exuding pain and hurting him, even when it wasn’t there anymore.

Musichetta was a soldier, though, with patience of steel, and they all owed her so much. She wasn’t just a doctor, but a mechanical specialist in prosthetic limbs. One that had learned through need and desperation, growing up in a battlefield and having lived with a missing leg since she was five. Her mentor had known Mabeuf, which was how they contacted her and her team before the plan was set in motion. Her mentor owned a house in the outskirts of the city, in the countryside, and that was where they had agreed to find them. The team had expected blood, but clearly not as much as they got.

Enjolras hadn’t spent much time with his friends in six months of recovery. Even when they were all staying in the same building. They weren’t forbidden to see him, but Enjolras had asked for it and that vacancy hurt Enjolras like yet another phantom limb. But the pain wasn’t as strong as the fear, the anxiety he felt when he wondered whether they were as disappointed of him as he felt.

He had ran away from his bedroom as soon as he could, though, during the first month, to meet Combeferre and Courfeyrac, but it didn’t end well. Enjolras found out Combeferre had lost his sight as a result of his excessive use of his abilities, which he couldn’t use freely anymore, not without grave risk. Enjolras read this on a chart at his door and decided against talking to him. He just couldn’t face the guilt he was feeling for leading them to this.

He did talk to Courfeyrac, who was the saddest and gloomiest version of himself Enjolras had ever seen. He told Enjolras how he was unable to meet Jehan, who was staying in voluntary isolation. Apparently, Jehan was learning to deal with severe anxiety and feared Courfeyrac’s proximity would intend to soothe the nerves Jehan was trying to get through by own means and guided therapy. Courfeyrac’s smile was sad and weary, and Enjolras wished he could hug him, but the arm that wasn’t there sent shocks of pain and he took it as a sign. He didn’t deserve it yet.

After that, he didn’t step out of his room and balcony. He wasn’t ready. He needed his strength back, his confidence back, his voice back to speak to them, to ask them to forgive him for not being stronger. He hadn’t seen Grantaire at all. But he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not until he could look at him in the eyes without so much guilt. He didn’t want Grantaire to see that the Enjolras he had saved was half the person he had once been.

Because the Institute fell but Philippe was alive. Because the few news he came across said it all had been a regrettable accident. Because it seemed nobody was asking any more questions. Because they had sliced the hydra’s head but two more were growing. Because Enjolras had been responsible for lives lost, and he had to drag that with him like a curse. And he was _so tired_. He was angry and upset and wanted to fight, to keep fighting until his body didn’t respond to him anymore. But when the arm that wasn’t there started itching and tingling to then make him feel like he was burning, and his body responded to the pain by lighting itself up with the abilities he hadn’t lost, a constant reminder of the Institute that also wasn’t there, just like his arm...then, he felt too tired to fight. So, so _tired_.

Musichetta was his link with the world. She informed his friends that he wasn’t ready to see them. None of them had insisted and Enjolras often wondered if it was for the best or if he would have wanted them to try to find him regardless.

She told him that the kids had left periodically. Cosette, Marius and Éponine had taken it upon themselves to find them places to go, homes, jobs and opportunities, far from the city. In six months, they had been able to find them all a proper path, and only his friends remained in the building. She had also mentioned bits and pieces about his friends’ conditions and what they were doing, even if he didn’t always ask. Because she noticed how he wanted to know, _more than anything_. She was really good at reading people.

In six months, Jehan had become more and more able to deal with the void he was struggling with. _Xe_ was struggling with. Jehan had found help and guidance in Musichetta’s team and xe had also found xyrself. When they met again, Courfeyrac cried, and Musichetta said it had been Jehan’s energy, for the first time, which had soothed Courfeyrac, and not the other way around. Still, Jehan had decided not to use the powers xe had for the time being. It was still too painful.

In six months, Feuilly and Bahorel almost didn’t leave each other’s side. Feuilly kept having nightmares about having to leave Bahorel behind on that van, bleeding to death, and Bahorel liked to be there beside him when he woke up. It seemed to be helping them both a lot. Enjolras smiled at that.

In six months, Combeferre became an incredibly quick learner, Musichetta said, which also made Enjolras smile. It had been hard for him, to lose his sight, but his friends didn’t let him back away, and Éponine was there for him every step of the way. Enjolras wondered if he’d forgive him for not being there beside him. The guilt he felt when he remembered Combeferre falling to the ground in front of him still plagued his head, and he wanted to be strong enough to ask him to forgive him without completely falling apart. Even when, according to Musichetta, Combeferre didn’t blame him at all.

In six months, Joly and Bossuet became who Musichetta talked about the most, and apparently the three of them had hit it off immediately. More or less. Seemingly, Joly had seen how Bossuet and Musichetta flirted with each other and backed off, taking it upon himself to avoid them both. Which, Musichetta was quick to add, was not their intention. She smiled when she remembered how Joly cried, once Bossuet had found him again, saying that he understood if, now that they were free, Bossuet changed his mind about what he felt for him. Bossuet cried even more when he told him that he loved him still. Musichetta thought of backing away herself, but Joly stopped her. He told her he saw how much she liked Bossuet, and how much Bossuet liked her, and that even if she didn’t like Joly as much as he liked her, he hoped she wouldn’t leave Bossuet alone. He asked her if they could find a way to make it work. She kissed him. The three of them were inseparable after that. Enjolras was so happy for them. He didn’t believe in fairy tales, but was glad that his friends were the ones to prove him wrong.

In six months, Grantaire was the only one Enjolras explicitly asked for, _every day_. He missed him terribly, but he was so afraid to see him. So afraid to know what he thought of him now. What he felt. Musichetta’s status report of Grantaire hadn’t been good at first. He hadn’t spoken a word for a couple of weeks since he’d been admitted, and seemed to be in need of something to relieve pain at all times, especially when the pain stopped being merely physical. His first words were to ask for more painkillers and he had hurt himself in fits of rage. The medical team had helped him, Musichetta said, six months of therapy started unraveling him back, but it was taking much more time than with Jehan. The first time she told him about Grantaire’s isolation, Enjolras had asked her to tell him he loved him. He did so every day, and wondered if it made a difference. He never got an answer back.

In six months, Enjolras became ready for his mechanical arm. Musichetta said it was going to be just as difficult as having lost it, but Enjolras felt stronger than he once had. The world was still in pieces, but he could slowly start to see how they fit together. It was time to start putting them back where they belonged. There was a dim light inside of him, something that wanted to pull him back from it all, from all the guilt, the shame, the fear and the grief. He just had to grasp it.

Enjolras asked Musichetta to tell his friends he was meeting them the next day. The very night before, someone knocked on his door.

“Yes?” he asked, sitting up on his bed.

Grantaire was surrounded by shadows when he opened the door and Enjolras remembered the first time he had seen him use them. They had been both too young back then, and Grantaire had been _so_ scared.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras’s voice broke, turning so weak the shadows could have hidden the words from them both.  

At the sound of his voice, the shadows dissipated and Grantaire’s eyes opened wide with realization, as if he had been on autopilot until then.

“Can...can I...come in?” he asked with hesitation.

He moved aside and pat the bed, gesturing Grantaire to sit beside him.

Grantaire sat, stiffly, and didn’t turn to meet Enjolras’s eyes.

“Did Musichetta send you my…” Enjolras begun, also a bit hesitant.

“Yes” he answered immediately “It sort of kept me together, when I felt I had nothing else”

Enjolras smiled and said nothing more. That room, sparkled with darkness and moonlight, drenched in the silence of the words Grantaire was not yet sharing, seemed stuck in time, unquavering for them both.

“I’m sorry I...I wanted to be...I didn’t want to see you in the state I was in” he confessed “I was afraid you’d be disappointed”

“Same here” Enjolras added “I was afraid of what you’d think of me now”

“Now?” Grantaire turned and looked at him, _really_ looked at him, for the first time “What do you mean?”

“I heard some news...” Enjolras continued “enough to know things didn’t really change...like you said they wouldn’t”

“Don’t you dare say I was right” Grantaire’s voice turned harsh “Don’t you even _think_ that”

Enjolras remained silent. His mechanical hand felt cold and heavy over his lap, hidden under the sheets.

“Please, don’t tell me you don’t believe anymore, Enjolras, because if they took that away from you…” Grantaire’s voice dropped, melting in the shadows “That’s how they’ll _really_ win”

Enjolras closed his eyes. He leaned on the headboard and sighed.

“I do believe, still now” his voice broke the silence and saying it aloud felt like lifting a huge burden from his shoulders “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t falter for a while” he opened his eyes, taking in the darkness of the room he’d come to spend most of his time in.

The window on the balcony remained open and the moonlight cast shadows over them. Grantaire’s profile was painted brightly over the darkness with brushstrokes made of starlight.

“I never thought of what would happen afterwards” Enjolras admitted “I mean, I thought about it but I never really considered all the implications of... _surviving_ ”

Grantaire didn’t speak, as if he feared what Enjolras might say next.

“If I’d died there, it would have been easy” Enjolras continued “I would have left this world believing I’d made a change in it and wouldn’t have been here to see that all the chaos and death brought so little compared to what we really wanted” he shivered “And I wouldn’t have to face all the lives I ended _with my own hands_ and those of the people who left it because of the plan I led”

Enjolras freed his mechanical hand from the confines of his sheets and the moonlight made it gleam under their sight. Grantaire’s eyes caught it immediately.

“But I’m so _thankful_ that you saved me, Grantaire” Enjolras smiled “That you came back for me and helped me be alive today”

“You are?” Grantaire asked, disbelieving.

“Yes” Enjolras sentenced “Because even if I’m tired and in pain, I still want to fight. Even if we brought death, all those kids we saved were _reborn_. And no matter what we can or cannot achieve, they will tell our story and do something of their lives because of what we did” Enjolras smiled “Because this was never for us, this was for _them_. This was for a _legacy_. And being alive for one more day is one more chance to build upon it”

Grantaire stretched his hand and caressed Enjolras’s mechanical one, drawing with his fingertips over the patterns of the shapes in the metal phalanxes, the palm, the wrist. Enjolras couldn’t feel it as he would with his own arm, but closed his eyes and leaned his head on Grantaire’s shoulder, revelling in their proximity.

“You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you speak like that again” Grantaire whispered in an exhale, as if he had been holding his breath ever since they had parted ways inside the Institute.

“You have no idea how much it means to finally be able to say it” Enjolras scooted closer to him “and believe every word with my whole heart again”

They submerged themselves into silence again, but a peaceful, tranquil sort of silence. Enjolras felt again as if they were able to stop time inside that room.

“You know what the good side of your new arm is?” Grantaire added, somewhat shyly, but Enjolras could get the playful tone on his question and smiled in anticipation.

“Enlighten me” he answered, moving his mechanical fingers almost instinctually as Grantaire played with his hand.

“All the robot jokes we’ll get to do” he answered, turning his head to meet his eyes.

“You mean _cyborg_ jokes” Enjolras cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course you’d get technical with it” Grantaire smirked “Will you fight for cyborg rights now?”

Enjolras’s eyes widened in realization.

“I never considered it” he answered, disappointed on his own lack of perspective.

“Well, I guess being outside gives us all a new insight, doesn’t it?” Grantaire took Enjolras’s foreign hand in his “Widening the limits and all that”

“Does that mean you’ll keep disagreeing with me in the future?” Enjolras leaned closer to Grantaire, their lips merely a breath away from one another.

“There will always be shadow where there’s light” Grantaire answered, before closing the small gap between them, the electricity sparking where one’s light met the other’s shadows, stronger and more powerful than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was born as a way to prove myself as an author. When it comes to fanfiction, I tend to avoid two things: a) getting too personal and serious and b) writing multichaptered fics. The first reason is mainly because I like to use fics for self-indulging purposes as a writer, doing what I wish I had seen/read/witnessed in canon and having fun rather than tying myself down. The second one is because I tend to get discouraged of my own projects if they take too long to write, I start getting self-conscious and I abandon projects halfway through. It reached a point when I realized that by tying myself with these rules I was not showing in my fics what I show when I write my original stuff (also by not writing in my native language, but that's another thing for another time), and I decided to embark on a project to prove myself how far I could go. Also, I tend to write more on the fantasy genre and sci-fi is something I like to read but I've never written much of before, so there was also that. In the almost two years it took me to complete this task, a lot of stuff happened in both my personal life and my creative life. This fic was there with me during panic attacks, anxiety episodes and very dark moments, which was part of why it took me so long to finish. I was halfway through it when things I had put upon myself to include in it started to become serious triggers. This fic helped me face so many things and, even if I hate to have these things in my life, my writing absorbed some of it and became much more organic and personal. I also started realizing how much I was missing when it came to representation, to narrative, to sequences and more things I tried to add along the way without compromising authenticity. It's a truthfully hard task to make your story evolve as you do, but it's also extremely inspiring. 
> 
> If I started reading this from the Prologue now, I'd probably be so embarrassed I'd want to take it down. But, for now, I'll keep everything as it is, because it's a living witness of the changes in me, for the better and worse, as a person and as a writer. This fic is a milestone for me, regardless of the effect it may have (or not have) in people, and even if my activity in this fandom fluctuates because I've never really felt a part of it as others do, it's probably one of the most meaningful things I have written to date. 
> 
> I want to thank [Ibbyliv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibbyliv) for believing in this story more than I ever did and being there all those times I considered abandoning it, because it made a huge difference. And also thanks to those who left comments that surprised me all those times I felt I was narrating this to an empty void, it means a lot that you cared. 
> 
> As for this installment in particular, some of these things I've experienced but not all of them, for those I was not familiar with, I did my research but please let me know if you have any concerns. I don't know if this epilogue is enough, but I always envisioned it as a short closing perspective, from Enjolras's point of view (with Musichetta finally showing up to save the day), and that much I could accomplish. The hardest thing to write, in the end, is them _surviving_. It's not really as happy as one would have thought, after reading canon, and I'm glad I put it upon myself to explore this, even if it was challenging, also in a personal and emotional sense. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, it really, _really_ means a lot.


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